In Our Own World
by SorrowsFlower
Summary: FFVII lemons... CHAPTER 4: COME ALIVE, Part II: There was no hesitation in either of them. There never had been. Not when they were exploring each other with curious, reverent, insatiable hands - love and longing finally meeting after an existence apart.
1. Chapter 1: Perfect

**IN OUR OWN WORLD**

**SorrowsFlower**

**Summary: **FFVII lemony oneshots

_**Author's Note:**__ So I took a leaf out of _**ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie**_'s book and started my own FFVII lemon folder. It's going to be mostly CloTi, but if my muse shows itself, I may write other pairings. It's a mixture of canon and AUs, and it's strictly NOT for kids. I should also probably warn you: there may be some OOCness, as well as some O.o and wtf moments (direct products of my twisted and permanently fried brain). Just know that I mean no offense with these fanfics. It's all in good fun... That said, ENJOY!!!_

**DISCLAIMER (for all chapters): **I don't own Final Fantasy or any of its characters.

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**CHAPTER 1: PERFECT**

**Perfect, CloTi AU**

**INSPIRATION:** (don't hold it against me) bits of stuff from Moulin Rouge, Pretty Baby, and The Dreamers; oh, and I was listening to Forbidden Act, from the Vampire Knight soundtrack.

**GENRE:** Romance/ Drama

**CHAPTER SUMMARY: **Cloud is an artist, looking for his muse. Tifa is a prostitute who has seen too little of the good in life. Together, they discover something extraordinary in the most unexpected of places.

**A/N:** Okay, when I got the idea for this, I was being swamped by exams (what else is new?), and it just kept nagging at me, and I couldn't concentrate. So I ended up writing it instead of studying. As a result, I nearly failed Physiology, and I came up with one of THE weirdest things I have ever written.

Make my day, please... Review!!!!

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_White linen sheets. The scent of jasmine and vanilla. The smile on the cracked face of a broken doll. The glow of the setting sun lighting up the face of the only woman I ever loved... _

_I knew her for one night, but our love lasted for a lifetime._

...

...

...

...

"Ya wanna what?"

Cloud Strife cleared his throat. The large, heavy-set woman in front of him resembled a bear about to attack, only the bear would have looked much less intimidating. "I'd like to use one of your girls as a model. I'm an artist, you see, and I'd really like to draw one of your girls... If it's alright with you," he added.

The owner and manager of the well-known establishment glowered at him, her heavy eyebrows bunching together in the middle of her forehead. "Look, sonny-boy. This here's a whorehouse, not a modeling agency. Ya want a fuck, you come here. Ya wanna play artist, go somewhere else. There ain't nothing here for ya!"

She prepared to slam the door in his face, but Cloud quickly felt around his pockets and pulled out a wad of money. It was the day's earnings, from the rich old couple who'd posed for him on the street. _There goes next month's rent... _He'd have to move somewhere else, he already owed Mrs. Turnpike five months' rent. He wasn't so sure the old woman would be so considerate this time.

It didn't matter; his art came first. Always.

"Wait!" He quickly inserted the bundle of bills into the rapidly closing slot between the dilapidated door and its frame. The door stopped. Through the crack, the woman inspected the crumpled wad of money.

"I'd like to hire one of your girls for the night," Cloud declared through the crack.

For a moment, the owner stared at him, then the crack widened and Cloud got a good look at the woman. She had catlike green eyes and dirty silver hair pulled into a messy bun at the back of her head. She peered at him through dusty spectacles, surveying him from head to toe, taking in his worn suit and unruly chocobo-colored spikes. Then her gaze shifted to the money.

"Call me Mother."

She smiled widely at him, revealing yellowing teeth. The door opened and Cloud stepped through. "Welcome to my establishment."

Mother hefted her large frame away from the door and began to walk down a dark hallway. She motioned for Cloud to follow. "We cater to the whims and pleasures of the men of Midgar... For a price, o' course."

They stopped at the foot of a flight of stairs. Mother threw her head back and peered at the dusty ceiling. "Girls! Come on down here, we've got ourselves a customer!"

Several female faces appeared over the railing. "C'mon down here, you lot, and let the young man have a look at ya!"

Shuffling sounds came from upstairs and a moment later, three women appeared. A tall, curvaceous blonde woman with feral eyes and blood red lipstick slathered across her lips descended the stairs first. She examined Cloud appreciatively.

"Mmm... he's a hot one."

The blonde woman approached him slowly, her flimsy, almost transparent dress slinking across her generous curves. When she was near enough, she placed a hand on his chest and raked her long, manicured fingernails downwards over his clothes. She leaned even closer and nibbled on his earlobe. Cloud gulped.

She laughed huskily. "Tastes just as good as he looks."

"Scarlet, don't scare the poor boy," a low voice purred. A brunette with brown eyes joined Scarlet and scanned Cloud. "Although I have to admit, he _is_ very good-looking."

"Who's good-looking?" A girl with short, black hair and wide eyes bounded up to them. She looked quite young, probably even younger than Cloud himself. She stood at the foot of the stairs with both hands planted on her hips, and grinned saucily up at him. "Hiya, handsome!"

All three women stared at him appreciatively. Cloud squirmed uncomfortably under their scrutiny. He felt like a prize bull at a cow auction. Mother grinned proudly and turned to him.

"So, which one of my girls will it be? You want Scarlet...?" The first woman ran a tongue over her bottom lip.

"... Or Lucrecia?" The second gave him a small, suggestive smile.

"... Or Yuffie?" The third bounced on the balls of her feet and waved at him. Mother turned to him expectantly.

Cloud cleared his throat and avoided the girls' gazes. He needed someone beautiful... Not that the girls in front of him weren't beautiful, but they just weren't _right_... Lucrecia seemed too cold. Yuffie was too chipper. Scarlet was... just plain scary.

He struggled to come up with something to say. "Uh... erm..."

"Mother... Aren't you forgetting someone?"

Five heads turned to the top of the stairs. A woman stood there, casually surveying the scene below. Cloud stared at her, mouth hanging uselessly open.

She was... perfect. Her long dark hair was twisted in a loose plait and hung down over her right shoulder to her waist. Several strands had escaped the braid and danced provocatively around her face. And what a face it was... It belonged to an angel.

But what surprised Cloud the most was her eyes. Curving mysteriously upward at the corners, they were a dark red-brown, the color of the finest wine and just as intoxicating; they held fire, passion, and a deep sadness buried away beneath the seductive smile... In his mind, Cloud knew she was the one he needed.

The dark-haired beauty slowly descended the stairs, her gazed resting on Cloud. "Well, Mother? Aren't you going to introduce me to the customer?"

Mother shuffled her feet and leaned her head closer to the woman's. "Now, now, Tifa... You know I was saving you 'specially for Sephiroth."

The woman glared coldly at her. "Sephiroth can go screw himself." She turned to Cloud, her full, red lips forming a small half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "...I want this one."

Scarlet gave a low hiss and glared at her. Yuffie pouted, her lower lip pushing outwards. "How come Tifa always gets the good-looking ones?"

Cloud felt his mouth go dry as the woman called Tifa looked him over. He didn't know if he was supposed to say something, and if so, he had no idea what he was supposed to say. Luckily, he was saved the trouble of replying when a young teenage boy with chin-length silver hair appeared.

"Mother, Mr. Valentine is here."

Yuffie immediately lost her pout and grinned. "Oooh, never mind. Vinnie's here!" She did a little twirling jig around Lucrecia and tugged on the taller woman's arm. "C'mon, Luc. I bet he's depressed from work. Let's go cheer him up!"

The brunette rolled her eyes at the tiny girl's antics. "Fine," she murmured. "But I get to be on top this time."

Yuffie glared indignantly at her. "No fair! You were on top last time!"

The two women went down the hallway where Cloud could hear them bickering. They reappeared a moment later with a tall, dark-haired man dressed in red. His hair obscured most of his face and he had an arm around each woman. Lucrecia was as cool as usual, but Yuffie was chattering incessantly. "Aw, cheer up, Vinnie! I'll give you a back rub if you want. Free of charge!"

The man nodded at Mother, then proceeded up the stairs, keeping his arms around both Yuffie's and Lucrecia's waists. As soon as they were gone, Scarlet turned to Mother.

"You said so yourself, Mother. You're saving Miss Priss over there for your dear little boy...That means I can keep this one." She gave Cloud a wicked smile. "I'll show you a good time, my little chocobo. We'll have fun, I promise."

Tifa threw her a cold look and took Cloud's wrist, pulling him up the stairs. "Have Loz put up the sign on my door, Mother. I don't want anyone disturbing us."

Scarlet glared at her, but retreated to her own room. Mother sighed and turned to the silver-haired teenager. "You can go, Kadaj. Be sure to tell Sephiroth that Tifa's not feeling 'er best."

"Yes, Mother." Kadaj disappeared down the hallway.

Cloud had no choice but to follow Tifa to her room upstairs. His brain didn't seem to be functioning at the moment and his entire body felt heavy, as if it were made of lead. His palms were sweaty and he wanted to wipe them, but doing so would mean shaking Tifa's grip off, something he didn't want to do just yet.

The second floor looked as dilapidated as the first. She opened the last door on the corridor and pulled him inside.

Compared to the rest of the house, Tifa's room was pristine. The sheets were freshly starched and the bed neatly made. The walls were a nice, sunny cream shade and the soft curtains billowed gently in the breeze from the open window. Across the room from the bed was a small table with a large mirror. Sitting in front of the mirror, amid bottles and what-not, was a small ceramic doll with curly dark hair and brown glass eyes. Oddly enough, it fit the room.

Tifa turned to him. Cloud gulped, wondering what she was going to do next. She looked him up and down, not in the way she had earlier. This time, her gaze wasn't provocative or appraising, but genuinely curious and somewhat amused.

"Hmmm, you're lucky I got there in time... Those girls would have eaten you alive."

Cloud blinked at the change in her tone. "Sorry?"

She laughed and turned away from him, seating herself in front of the table. "You don't look like the type of man who goes to these kinds of places," she explained, undoing her braid while talking. "Believe me, if they'd gotten their hands on you, you would've been scarred for life."

She had a smile on her face. Cloud didn't know if she was teasing him or not. "Make yourself at home. I'll be with you in a minute."

He cleared his throat. Tifa didn't look like she was going to pounce on him any minute. He took off his coat and hung it on a hook on the wall. Feeling a bit nervous, he sat down on the edge of her bed. He watched as Tifa slowly ran a brush through the strands of her thick dark hair. The waves created by her braid were smoothed out with a few strokes, and the now-straight mass hung down her back like a dark curtain.

Cloud couldn't take his eyes off her. Her every movement was graceful, from the gentle sweeping motions of her hand as she combed through her hair to the fluid way she stood from the chair and faced him. He cleared his throat again. Her wine-colored gaze roamed over him, making him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

Tifa had to laugh as the young man cleared his throat yet again. He looked so nervous, and his face had gone from pale to red to near-purple. Lucrecia had been right, though... He was very good-looking. Better than most.

Blond spikes framed his angular face and eyes the color of the ocean peered out from beneath them. Those eyes were focused on her in a stare so intense, she was surprised he hadn't burned a hole through her yet. Usually, the stares she received from men disgusted her. All they ever saw or cared about was her tits or her ass.

But this one... the way this man looked at her made her feel as if she were a goddess. His awestruck gaze caused a small tingle to go down her spine.

"So, um... uh..." the young man stammered, "I'm Cloud. Cloud Strife... I'm an artist. I- I would be honored if you would be my model."

Tifa's eyebrows rose. An artist? And he wanted her to be his model? Was he serious?

Cloud watched her in trepidation. She was looking at him as if he were insane. _Oh no... Is she going to refuse?_ His insides twisted in panic. "Uh... I--"

"Is that all?"

Cloud blinked. "Huh?"

"Is that all you want?" Tifa fixed him with a level stare. "For me to model for you? So you can draw me?"

"Well, uh... yes..." Was she expecting something more from him?

He watched anxiously as she bit her lower lip, rolling it between her teeth. She HAD to say yes! Now that he had seen her, he didn't want anyone else. Nobody else would be right for this... Tifa nodded, and he exhaled the breath he hadn't known he had been holding. "Alright."

"Thank you." Cloud smiled. She smiled back, a sweet, genuine smile that made his insides twist again, for a different reason this time.

"You're welcome, Mr. Strife."

"Call me Cloud." Cloud rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "'Mr. Strife' is what they call my father. I'm just Cloud."

"Well, in that case, call me Tifa... So, what do you want me to do?" She tilted her head curiously at him.

Cloud looked around the room. The table? No. The bed? No, it didn't seem right, either. The window? Yes, that was it! He walked over to the bed and knelt on it to examine the window more closely. The shutters were the kind that could be pushed out, so it wouldn't get in the way. The ledge seemed to be wide enough to support her, and the lighting was excellent. Perfect.

He turned to Tifa. Now came the hard part. "Um, could you... uh, would you mind... er..."

Tifa regarded him curiously. "Yes?"

How the hell was he supposed to say this? "Um... Could you undress, please?"

Heat surged to his face as she stared at him. As Cloud watched, her expression turned from curious to suspicious in a matter of seconds. _Oh, great... Now she thinks I'm a pervert. _"No, it's not like that, really... I promise I won't do anything... unprofessional."

Tifa studied the man in front of her, trying to find an ulterior motive. Was a nude sketch of her all he really wanted? What if it was just some kind of sick excuse to get a peek at her? _Well... it wouldn't be the first time... _Many other men had certainly done worse. Besides, his voice sounded so anxious, as though he genuinely wanted to put her at ease.

Could it be that maybe --just maybe-- he didn't want her for sex? ...Maybe he really thought she was beautiful enough to be part of his art.

"Alright."

Cloud watched as Tifa slowly slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders. He knew he should turn away, but a part of him wouldn't let him avert his eyes. That part of him kept his eyes on the smooth, pale skin being revealed to him as the dress flowed over her body... over the gentle swell of her full breasts... the graceful curve of her waist... down the long, lithe line of her legs... until finally, the flimsy fabric pooled at her feet.

His breath caught in his throat. She was like a vision, a mirage that might disappear at the slightest movement.

Tifa peered at Cloud from underneath long, dark lashes. Heaven help her, she was blushing like crazy. She could feel Cloud's eyes on her and she wondered if he liked what he was seeing. All the other men certainly had. But somehow, she felt Cloud was different. For the first time in her life, she felt shyness grip her.

_What's wrong with me? _She wondered as the dress fell to her feet. _It's not like I've never been with a man before..._

Without warning, memories of her first time came rushing back to her... Back then, her insides were twisting with nervousness and horror at what the man on top of her was doing. She couldn't remember the man's face or name, but she could remember the terrifying feeling of the man pushing his erection into her. She'd been only thirteen then, and much too small to accommodate the man's swollen member. And then came the horrible pain that made her cry out. The man had mistaken it then for pleasure, but he couldn't have been more wrong... How could anyone find the pain and the uncomfortable friction his pumping had produced pleasurable?

"Tifa?"

She looked up and found Cloud staring at her with a look of concern in his deep blue eyes. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" Cloud asked. Gaia, he was so stupid... He had been staring at the rest of her body so intently and at the same time trying in vain to ignore the sudden surge of blood to his lower extremities, he hadn't noticed the look of pain flashing across her beautiful eyes. He felt like a complete fool.

Tifa opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. He was shifting awkwardly, trying to adjust his position. That was when she saw the bulge straining against his trousers.

She felt her heart contract painfully, as though a fist had gripped it. Cloud was just like the rest of them. Just like Sephiroth. Just like the man who had taken her innocence. These men, they all wanted only one thing from her. _Gaia, I'm such an idiot... What made me think he was actually any different?_

The whole 'I'm an artist' thing was probably just an act, just to get her to undress so he could enjoy himself with her. The looks of nervousness and concern were probably just feigned to make her fall for his act... Well, if that was what he wanted, then that was he would get. She gave him her best seductive smile, the one that had men falling over themselves to follow her.

"So, where do you want me?"

Cloud frowned. The smile on her face was the same one she had given him earlier, with Mother and the other girls present. The corners of her full lips curved upwards, but her eyes held a cold and distant look. The smile had no meaning to it, and though it enhanced her features, it didn't suit her.

He gestured to ledge and she sat down in a fluid motion, angling her body so that her breasts were displayed to him in all their glory. He swallowed and turned away, pulling the chair from her table and setting it down a few feet away from her. He sat down; he was now positioned beside the window, almost directly in front of her.

Tifa was staring at him, her gaze challenging. Cloud shifted nervously under her scrutiny. "Can you turn your head, please? Look out the window."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but complied. "Good. Bend your left leg, just so..." She obeyed, flexing her knee slightly. "That's it. Bend the other one as well, just a little. Not as much as the other..." She complied without a word.

Cloud rubbed the back of his neck. It didn't feel complete somehow. His eyes took in the room and his gaze fell on the small ceramic doll on her table. He reached over and carefully picked it up.

It wasn't in the best condition. One side of the doll's face had a crack on it; it had been glued back on, but that uneven line remained. Half of the doll's frilly dress was burned and she was missing part of her foot. But her painted-on smile had not worn off, and her brown glass eyes were shiny and sparkled in the light.

Tifa saw his hand close around the little doll. She stiffened, about to tell him to put it down. That doll meant more to her than anything else in the world and she didn't want just anyone touching it. But before she could speak, he extended his arm, holding the doll out to her. "Here. Can you hold it in one arm and hold your pose?"

She took the doll from him and examined it for a moment, touching the burnt clothes and tracing the crack on the doll's face. Then she cradled it in her right arm and resumed the position he had instructed her to take. Cloud leaned back and studied her.

The curtain billowed softly behind her and the wind from outside fanned her hair slightly, causing the silky strands to caress the pearly texture of her skin. The dimming light from the setting sun fell on her, bathing the curves of her body with a soft golden glow and creating mysterious shadows that played on each hollow of her body, paying tribute to hidden secrets and femininity. In the dramatic lighting, even the doll's smile seemed alive, both hopeful and sorrowful at the same time. The entire room seemed to take on a new, peaceful atmosphere, one he never would have expected from a place like this.

He had been right. She _was_ perfect. Not just because she was physically flawless, but because she was... imperfect. She was like the broken little doll she held in her arms. Cracked, scarred, burned, with missing parts; but still, her eyes held the fire he had glimpsed there earlier.

Taking a deep breath, he touched the tip of his pencil to the paper and began to draw. His hands moved unerringly across the paper, adding stroke after stroke. His eyes moved between his muse and his sketchbook, trying to take in every little detail of her and record this moment on paper.

At one point, he saw a drop of moisture pool at the corner of her eyes. She brushed her fingertips across it and the single tear disappeared. But Cloud had seen it, and he acknowledged its existence. He stopped sketching.

"Something wrong?" Tifa asked when he suddenly put his pencil down.

Cloud looked at her. "That doll is special to you, isn't it?"

Tifa looked down at the cracked ceramic face and nodded silently.

"Can I ask where you got it?"

She tensed and looked back out the window, averting her eyes from his. He went back to sketching as he waited for her to answer. It took her a while, but after a moment, she spoke.

"My mother gave it to me the Christmas I turned eight... I saw it at an antiques shop and begged her to buy it for me. She said no. We had a baby in the house then and money was getting scarce." Tifa gave a soft laugh as she stared at the sunset. "I remember crying all the way home that day. My father did all he could to cheer me up, but I kept on crying. I think I almost dehydrated myself from crying so much. I cried all day, all week. Then when Christmas Day came, my eyes were so swollen, I almost couldn't see the little box wrapped in shiny paper sitting underneath the tree. When I opened it..."

Cloud smiled. "You found the doll."

Tifa nodded. "My mother, who was a seamstress then, nearly worked her fingers to the bone just so she could buy this for me. She had scars on her fingertips from where the needle punctured her. But she never complained. Not once..." her voice broke and she stopped talking.

They were both silent for a long moment. Then Cloud cleared his throat. "How come it's, uh... broken?"

Tifa turned to him, her eyes cold. She didn't speak, just stared at him with cool, expressionless eyes. Realizing he had overstepped some kind of boundary, Cloud immediately held up his hands to rectify his mistake. _You little idiot, Strife!_ "I'm sorry. Forget I asked. I--"

"Do you really want to know?"

Cloud swallowed and nodded. Tifa took a deep breath and began talking. Her voice held a note of sadness and intense pain.

"I was eleven. We were still living in Nibelheim then. I was on my way home from school. My friends and I were walking together when we saw smoke coming from the rooftops... At first, we thought it was just smoke from the chimneys, but then we saw crowds of people running from it. We saw our neighbors carrying their things and shouting..."

Cloud listened to her story with rapt attention, his sketch forgotten. She was staring out the window at the fading afternoon sun, completely absorbed in the tale she was telling him.

"I ran all the way to our street, and it was just... fire. It was everywhere, choking me, burning my clothes. Our house was completely consumed by it. I could hear people screaming. The firemen were trying to put the flames out, but it was spreading so fast, and before they could do anything, our house collapsed... My mother and my little brother were inside. They never got out. My brother... he was only three, and he was such a sweet little boy; he always had a smile for everyone... They both died that day."

Tifa squeezed her eyes shut at the onslaught of memories. The unbearable heat of the fire... Seeing her house fall until nothing was left of it but ashes and debris... The realization that her mother and brother were both gone... She pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out.

Cloud got up from the chair and seated himself on the ledge in front of her. He didn't quite know what to say, so he took her other hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. She opened her eyes and gave him a small smile.

"The only thing left was this doll. I always kept it safe in a box under my bed and it survived somehow... After the fire, my father changed. He became a completely different person. I couldn't see anything of my happy, loving father in him anymore. He began drinking all the time and stopped working. He gambled away all the money he had earned from his job, and when nothing was left, he... he sold me. To Mother."

Cloud's hand on hers tightened. "What?"

"He sold me to Mother for a few gil and left me here in Midgar. I had nowhere else to go; my father had abandoned me and I never heard from him again. I had nothing and no one; nobody cared whether I lived or died. Mother was about to say no and leave me in the streets, but her eldest son, Sephiroth, who handled the finances, took a liking to me and let me stay if I gave him a few… _privileges_. So I stayed here and became one of Mother's girls... I've been here ever since."

Tifa finished her story and turned to look at him. Cloud was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Was he judging her for what she had done to survive? He had no right! Who was he to do something like that?!

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut across her and spoke first. "When I was sixteen, my mother died."

"Excuse me?"

Cloud went on. "She got sick and it got worse day after day. I was an only child and my father wanted me to become a doctor, so I could help my mother. But I refused and said I wanted to become an artist. He called me a selfish, ungrateful weakling and threw me out of the house."

"Cloud--"

Cloud held up a hand and continued his story. "... Before she died, my mother told me she wanted me to be happy and told me to go and show the world my art. It didn't matter to her that I hadn't wanted to be a doctor. The doctors couldn't help her get well. She just... She just wanted me to go after my dream. So I did."

Tifa stared at him. Why was he telling her this?

"Look, Tifa... All I'm trying to say is that I understand a little bit of how you feel." He looked at her with his clear, blue eyes. "I'm not going to judge you because of your choices. You did what you had to do to stay alive. That doesn't make what you did right, but no one's perfect... We all make mistakes; we all sinned at one point in our lives. But that shouldn't bring us down and stop us from living, from doing better. From going after our dreams... I went after mine, and here I am. What about you?"

He stared at her and she stared right back. For a moment, neither of them moved, just trying to hold the other's gaze. Deep blue locked with wine-red and held fast.

Tifa folded her legs, unmindful of her nudity, and leaned forward so that her face was mere inches from his. "I want to ask you a question, Cloud, and I want you to answer it truthfully."

"Okay." Cloud swallowed at her proximity. _He _hadn't forgotten that she was naked. "I'll try."

"Is that all you want?" Tifa asked, repeating the question she had asked him earlier. "Is this really all you want from me? For me to be your model so you can draw me?"

Cloud's heart was pounding painfully in his chest. He knew what she was asking him. "If I said yes, I would be lying to you, so... No."

Tifa leaned even closer to him, until their faces were only a breath apart. The doll fell to the bed, unheeded, and the sketch lay forgotten, almost finished, on the chair.

Cloud's heart rate sped up. Her eyes were so beautiful, deep orbs of swirling red-brown. Staring into them was making him feel dizzy. And she smelled so good... Like jasmine and vanilla. One of her hands reached up and stroked his messy spikes.

Slowly, almost experimentally, she closed the distance between them and laid her lips on his. His mouth was soft and tasted vaguely of peppermint and cinnamon. Tifa could feel him tense as she let her tongue glide along the crease between his lips.

Cloud tried to keep his head as Tifa kissed him. But he was failing. Miserably. He wasn't very good with women. Sure, he'd had a few girlfriends and he wasn't a novice when it came to matters of the bedroom, but with Tifa... He was unsure, afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing, of her retreating into herself while her eyes became cold and distant again.

"Cloud?" Tifa murmured into his mouth, waiting for him to make the next move. When he didn't do anything, she took his hand and guided it to her right breast, letting him feel its fullness. She turned her gaze back to his face and saw his blue eyes darken with desire.

"Isn't this what you want?"

His eyes held hers and she could see the struggle in the cerulean depths. "Only if it's what _you _want as well, Tifa... I'm not going to force you into anything just because I couldn't control myself."

Tifa inhaled a sharp breath. No one --not a single one of the men she had been with-- had ever taken her own desires into consideration. All they ever did was take from her, from her body, until they were sated, and she was left feeling empty and used. None of them cared if she thought they were _forcing_ her. To them, she was nothing but a whore; as long as they paid her, they were justified in doing whatever they wanted, her feelings be damned.

Now, here was this man offering to set aside his own urges so she could have what _she_ wanted, even if what she wanted was to deny him her body.

"Yes, Cloud." Tifa moved her hand from his hair down to his face, tracing each line, arch, and hollow. Her lips followed her fingers, pressing soft kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his jaw. Her voice was a low murmur with no trace of coyness or flirtation, just an honest desire to reciprocate his selflessness. "It's what I want."

She slid off the window ledge onto the bed, waiting for him. Cloud marveled at the beauty spread in front of him, his for the taking. "Gaia, Tifa... You're beautiful."

Her ivory skin colored a delicious shade of pink as she flushed. "No one's ever told me that before."

It was true. She'd been told that she was pretty and that she had great tits, and that she had a nice ass; but nobody had ever used the word 'beautiful' to describe her before.

"Then all of them were probably blind." He knelt next to her on the bed. "You're... perfect."

He said the words with such reverence and it made her heart contract; not with pain, but something else she couldn't quite identify. It was too new and foreign for her, so she pushed it out of her mind for the moment. She skillfully undid his shirt and tossed it aside.

Tifa's eyes explored the contoured planes of his upper body. He was lean, but she could see his muscles rippling powerfully as he moved. The skin on his chest was smooth and pale, marred only by several scars that looked years old. She traced each scar with her fingertips. She pressed her lips to one of them and traced it gently with her tongue.

Cloud gave a choked gasp. She bent down and kissed his flat stomach. Her hands strayed lower and began unbuckling his belt. Her cool fingers touched his erection through the fabric of his trousers. He gave a low groan as she stroked repeatedly in practiced movements through heated cloth.

He hated it. There was no meaning to the act, like the empty, hollow-eyed smiles she had given him.

It wasn't what he wanted from her. It wasn't what he wanted _for_ her.

Cloud gripped her shoulders, pushing her gently down onto the sheets. Tifa tensed. This was it, then. She closed her eyes and heard shuffling sounds from above her. She waited for him to enter her and start enjoying himself, just like the others had. When he didn't, Tifa opened her eyes.

"Cloud?"

He said nothing. Instead, he touched her face in a slow, smooth caress. His hands were hard and calloused, but they were tender as they explored her features. "So beautiful..."

Skilled artist's hands traced the arch of her cheek and the curve of her chin. She gave a little shiver as his hands trailed a path down to her neck, pausing to feel the pulse beating beneath the soft, pale skin. Slowly, Cloud bent down and pressed a reverent kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat.

_Oh!_ The little shiver she had felt earlier skittered down her spine. It was a delicious sensation and she closed her eyes, head tilted back against the pillows, as his tongue shot out and continued the path his fingers had started.

He pressed open-mouthed kisses against her skin as he moved downward. This wasn't entirely unfamiliar to her. Some of the other men, when they hadn't been satisfied with just taking her, liked to 'play' with her first. They enjoyed it, running their hands all over her, but it had given her nothing but discomfort and pain as they handled her body roughly.

But this time, it was different, Tifa thought as she writhed underneath Cloud's ministrations. She was used to being in control. Though the men she had been with took from her, demanding ruthlessly, her body was always under _her_ control. She could make the kinds of sounds they wanted to hear, make the motions they needed to feed their egos. But her body had never responded the way it did now... This time, _she_ enjoyed it.

He took his time, making sure each patch of skin was explored. Every place his hands and tongue touched tingled and burned. This was new, and different, and unexpected, and Heaven help her, it felt wonderful.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as his mouth moved lower. His hands reached her breasts first and she stiffened. But he was gentle as he cupped the fullness in his hands. Tifa couldn't stop the low moan that escaped her lips as his thumb pressed and rotated one of the dusky peaks.

She arched into his hand, her mouth open and panting. Oh, Gaia, she had never felt anything like this before, not with any man.

Cloud watched her closely. Her head was tilted, her back arched and her lips parted on breathy gasps. Of course, he knew that he wasn't the first and only man she had been with, nor would he be the last. But Gaia, she was so passionate... She deserved all he had to give.

He lowered his head and took the nipple he had been fondling into his mouth. The sound she made was so sensual and so utterly female, it caused his already swollen member to grow even harder, straining against his still unshed trousers. He swirled his tongue around the aroused peak while his careful fingers caressed the other.

"Cloud!" Tifa gasped. Her fingers lost themselves in the golden strands of his hair as she pulled him closer to her.

Gaia, what was he doing? Wasn't he supposed to just take her and enjoy himself with her? But he wasn't. Again and again, his tongue swirled, tasting, suckling, pleasing her. It was driving her crazy! Her lips parted and she gave a long, pleading moan. What she was pleading for, she didn't know.

His mouth left her breasts, and she made a little whimper of protest, but he moved lower still. Down the smooth skin of her abdomen. His tongue flicked out and dipped into her navel, making her gasp in surprise. Her hands tightened on the bright, silky strands of his hair.

But he didn't stop. With his mouth, he traced a tingling path from her navel to the soft, damp curls between her legs.

"Oh!" Tifa half-gasped, half-moaned her pleasure as she felt his tongue lave over sensitive flesh. His fingers strayed lower into her slick dampness, testing her. Her own fingers curled into the bedding as her hips lifted off the bed, arching into the damp heat of his mouth and the movement of his hand. "Oh... please, Cloud..."

Cloud looked back up at her without stopping his ministrations. She was an achingly beautiful sight. Her wine-colored eyes were half-covered by long lashes. Her skin glimmered with a light sheen of moisture. Her voice was smoky and breathless, and her graceful body trembled with pleasure; pleasure _he _was giving her. The thought made him smile. He could smell the scent of her arousal and knew she was nearing her release. He slipped a hand beneath her arched back and brought her closer to him.

Tifa shuddered. She could feel heat pulsating from her lower abdomen to the overly-sensitized flesh beneath his mouth. She was drenched in the sensations swamping her and powerless to stop them. It was frightening, the way he was making her lose control of herself.

"It's alright, Tifa," he murmured against her heated skin. "I'm here. I'll take care of you."

His words sent shivers up her spine. It scared her, his words and the feelings they stirred in her. But she could feel him, holding her body securely against his. Shaking and crying, she let go.

It was bliss. Tifa cried out breathlessly as waves of pleasure washed over her, each sensation more powerful than the last. Her half-lidded eyes opened in wonder at the feeling. No man had ever given her pleasure before. Never had she imagined it could feel _this_ good.

She was still trembling when she reached down and pulled Cloud up to her. Tears ran down her flushed cheeks. When Cloud saw them, he traced the tear tracks with one fingertip.

"Tifa? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry--"

Tifa shook her head, her body still shivering slightly, and smiled at him. It was a beautiful smile, the one he had wanted from the beginning. "Don't be."

She placed her hand on his chest and trailed a path downward, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down past his hips. Cloud gritted his teeth as her fingers brushed against his erection. Her cool hands wrapped around his heated length and guided him to her.

"Cloud..." Tifa said his name in a soft, smoky whisper, robbing him of all rational thought. "I need you inside me. Please..."

Cloud groaned. Her soft murmurs and whispers were making him lose his sanity. He paused only to remove the rest of his clothes, and went back to the bed. He held himself carefully above her and entered her slowly. Once he was fully inside, he held himself still, waiting for her body to accommodate him. It was difficult when her sheath was still damp and warm from her climax and his own body was threatening to betray him at the moment.

But he refused to take her like some sex-crazed maniac; she'd had enough of that, he knew. And he was damned well going to put her first, above his body's own urges.

Tifa exhaled a slow breath as she felt Cloud inside her, filling her. Gaia, it had never, _ever_, been like this. She had barely recovered from her earlier release and now her body was heating up again. It felt so wonderful, feeling him inside her body. She looked up at him. He was breathing heavily as he held himself still over her.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Don't stop..."

He gave a low groan and began to move, thrusting deeply in and out of her. Her head fell back as she took him inside her, again and again, letting him fill her. His breath hissed between clenched teeth as Cloud pressed deeper. One of his hands fisted in the dark curtain of hair spread out around them, while the other stroked her cheek.

Their bodies tangled and hips rocking against each other, Tifa pulled his head down to hers. Cloud needed no more invitation. Their mouths fused together, tongues intent on tasting, exploring. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she gave a soft cry against his mouth. They were completely entangled now. Joined hands. Twined limbs. Neither could tell where one ended and the other began. She could feel each individual scar on his body. He could taste the salty tears running down her face.

Cloud held her closer, thrust deeper. "Tifa..."

Tifa moaned and writhed against him. Her release was coming. She could feel it; the heady sensation of losing control was threatening to overwhelm her again. She was lost, almost drowning in the intense pleasure of it. The only real thing left was Cloud, the sound of his voice and the feel of him moving inside her.

"Oh, Cloud!"

She cried his name into his lips as she came apart under him. Her arms twined around his neck and she sobbed into his shoulder as she rode the waves of pleasure cresting through her. Tifa clung to him, allowing him to anchor her as her body spiraled out of control.

Cloud, feeling her clench around him, drove into her one last time before finding his own release. He gave a long, drawn-out groan as he came. His head dropped onto her shoulder, burying his face in the soft, fragrant strands of her midnight hair.

They lay motionless, still joined, for a moment, savoring the last tremors of their climax. Finally, when his muscles felt as if they could support him no longer, Cloud withdrew from her and lay beside her on the bed.

Tifa turned onto her side, laying her head on his arm and pressing a kiss to his chest. "Thank you."

Cloud looked down at her. Her face was streaked with tears, but she was smiling. Really smiling, with her eyes this time. He crooked his arm over her slender shoulders while his other hand brushed the tears away.

"Tifa, I--"

Slender fingers pressed over his lips, cutting him off.

Somehow, she knew what he was going to say, and she couldn't let him say it. She couldn't, because this night had been the most beautiful, the most perfect night of her life... And now that the sun was slowly peeking through the windows of her room, the night was over, and it hurt. It hurt as if someone was ripping her heart out, tearing it into a million tiny pieces along the way... And saying it would only make the hurt worse.

Cloud trailed off and she lay beside him silently. She nuzzled into his side for a moment, thinking of how best to tell him what she wanted to say. "Remember what you asked me earlier? About my dream?"

"Yeah." Her hair was spread out over them. He stroked the dark tresses in a reassuring caress. "You wanna tell me about it?"

Her fingers fidgeted anxiously against his chest. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Well, that depends. Is it funny?"

She poked him in the ribs. "No. It's not funny. It's just... silly. Especially for someone like me."

"Someone like you?"

Tifa cast him an exasperated glance. "Oh, come on, Cloud. I'm not an idiot. I know how people see me. I know what people think of me and the things I do to stay alive. And I know that not everyone can accept me like you can... So shut up and promise you won't laugh, or I won't tell you my dream."

Cloud cleared his throat and carefully schooled his expression. "Okay, I won't laugh."

Tifa took a deep breath. "Ever since I was a little girl, I knew that my parents were deeply in love. They were always happy around each other, always smiling and laughing. My mother told me that she had run away from home because she had been expecting me. She didn't care that the family she left behind had disowned her. It was all she ever wanted: to have a child with the man she loved."

She traced one of his scars lightly as she spoke. "When I came along, and my little brother after me, everything was perfect. Until everything fell apart..." She paused for a moment and looked up at him. "But my mother's words and her dream... They stuck to me somehow… and then her dream became my dream, too. That's how I survived this place. That's how I managed to live with myself even with everything that happened to my family, to me. Because I had my dream."

"That's your dream?" Cloud asked, with genuine curiosity. "To have a child with the man you love?"

She nodded and ducked her face under the crook of his arm. "I know, it's silly. You can laugh if you want."

"I'm not laughing."

Tifa looked up and surveyed his face. He was smiling, but he didn't seem to be humoring or patronizing her. "Really?"

Cloud nodded. "It's a good dream, and no sillier than a boy who was supposed to be a doctor wanting to be an artist."

For a moment, Tifa stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then she laid her lips on his and kissed him. A slow, thorough, and passionate kiss that was full of things neither of them could give words to. Tifa wanted that kiss to go on forever, but she could feel the thin rays of sunlight begin to warm her bare back. She pulled away from him, giving his lower lip one last taste. Slowly, she sat up and held the sheet up to her chest.

"I'm going after my dream, Cloud. I want you to go after yours, too... Go out to the world and show them your art."

Cloud's cerulean eyes met hers. "Come with me, Tifa."

"What?!"

His declaration seemed to have spurred him to life. He stood up from the bed and began pulling on his trousers. "Tifa, you can leave this place. Come with me, and we'll--"

She rose to her knees on the bed and reached out, taking his face in her hands. "No, Cloud... I told you, I know what people think of me. If I'm seen with you, people will never accept you. They'll hate you too, because they will never understand. They'll hate you because of me, and I don't want that!"

Cloud shook his head vehemently as he faced her. "I don't care!!! I don't care if they hate me! We'll have each other! Tifa, please... Just come with me!"

Tifa's beautiful wine-red eyes filled with tears. "I can't. This wasn't supposed to go beyond this night, Cloud. You knew that from the start. I can't go with you. Listen to me... No, listen!" She took his face in her hands again as he tried to turn away.

"If you really do love me, Cloud Strife, then you will walk out that door, go after your dream, and never look back."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Cloud's mind was fixed, and so was Tifa's. Neither one would back down… In the end, it was someone else who made the decision for them.

"What the hell is going on here?!" A cold, dangerous voice asked from the doorway. The couple on the bed turned just in time to see a tall man with long silver hair at the door. His face was twisted in rage as he looked first at Tifa, then at Cloud, then back at her.

"You tried to trick me, you little bitch!" The newcomer approached the bed, his green eyes glowing dangerously. "You worthless piece of trash! I let you stay here, and this is what I get?!"

Tifa leapt out of the bed and faced the man who had to be at least twice her size. "Sephiroth--"

Sephiroth raised his hand as though to strike her, but Cloud stepped in front of Tifa in an attempt to shield her. The man's glowing green eyes settled on him, and narrowed with manic rage. "_You!!!_"

He seized Cloud by the neck and bodily dragged him from the room. As he struggled for breath, Cloud could hear Tifa's screams behind them. "Cloud! No! Sephiroth, let go of him! _Cloud!!!_"

The man's grip on his throat didn't loosen. Through his hazy vision, he could see people coming out of their rooms.

Yuffie's head poked inquisitively out of one of the rooms. "Oh, did Seph lose his temper again? Seriously, that guy is hot, but he needs a shrink... Oh, hey, handsome artist guy! Leaving so soon?"

Scarlet lounged at the doorway to her room. She laughed as Cloud passed by, being hauled by Sephiroth. "You know, my little chocobo, if you'd picked me last night, you wouldn't be having this problem right now."

The people from this twisted, bizarre world had come up to say one last goodbye to the man who never did belong here, Cloud thought vaguely as Sephiroth dragged him down the stairs by the neck. His vision was hazy from the lack of air, but he could see Tifa's blurry form, wrapped in one of her sheets, as she raced down the stairs behind him.

"Sephiroth, no!"

Cloud could hear the sound of a door being wrenched open and a second later, the grip on his throat loosened and blessed oxygen once more filled his lungs. His relief was short-lived, however, as he found himself sailing down the steps of Mother's establishment, landing painfully on his rear end.

"Cloud!!!" Tifa was hurrying toward him, but Sephiroth pushed her roughly back inside and turned to Cloud, his face alight with hatred. He threw Cloud's sketchbook and pencils after him. They scattered on the street, strewing the pavement with papers and cherished sketches.

"Worthless scum!" Sephiroth sneered at him, before dragging Tifa back inside the house and slamming the door in Cloud's face. Undeterred, Cloud got to his feet and pounded on the door.

"Tifa! Tifa! _Tifa!!!_"

He pounded on the dilapidated door again and again, trying to get Tifa's attention, at the same time hoping to throw the door off its hinges. "_Tifa!!!_"

A few moments later, the door opened, but the face in the doorway was not the one he wanted to see. Instead, three people faced him. One was Kadaj; the second was a burly young man with short silver hair, and the third was a shorter, younger teenage boy, with silver hair almost as long as Sephiroth's.

"Where's Tifa?!" Cloud demanded. "I need to speak to her!"

Kadaj stepped forward and smiled cruelly at him. "Tifa belongs to Brother. Brother doesn't like other people putting their dirty paws on his things."

The three circled him, and before Cloud could register what was happening in his brain, the long-haired boy had pinned his arms behind his back. Grinning maliciously, Kadaj aimed a punch to Cloud's stomach, making him double over in pain.

The tallest of the three made an impatient, growling noise. Kadaj gave him a patronizing sneer. "Don't cry, Loz. You'll get your turn... Yazoo, hold him still."

As Kadaj and Loz took turns beating him up, Cloud could hear screams coming from one of the upstairs bedrooms. "_Tifa!!!_" he bellowed.

What the hell was that bastard, Sephiroth, doing to her?! Cloud struggled against Yazoo's grip and managed to free an arm. He sent it swinging and his knuckles cut across Loz's face, drawing blood.

"My nose!" Loz clutched at his face, blood seeping between his fingers. To Cloud's surprise, the hulking mass of a man burst into tears. "Mother! The worthless scum broke my nose!"

Mother herself appeared and took in the scene: Yazoo and Kadaj struggling to get Cloud under control, Loz clutching his nose while fat tears leaked from his eyes, and Cloud fighting tooth and nail to get back into the house.

"Why do I have to do everything around here?!"

With a sigh, she reached behind her for something. Cloud saw a flash of silver. Then there was a horrible '_crack!!!'_ His head exploded in pain, and everything went dark.

Mother studied the young man's bloodied face. Her fingers fumbled in his neck for a pulse. When she felt the faint fluttering, she nodded. There was no use having a murder charge on her head. Though her clientele did ensure her immunity, it wouldn't really help to have that on top of this whole Tifa fiasco.

She sighed. She should have known that girl would be trouble. Too headstrong, too sure of herself, her head full of useless 'dreams' that had no place in this kind of business. _I never should have taken her in_...

Mother shook her head and turned to her sons.

"Loz, stop your blubbering and clean this pipe up," she handed him the metal pipe smeared with Cloud's blood. "Kadaj, Yazoo--"

She looked at the young man again. He was sprawled on the ground, surrounded by useless scraps of paper.

"Get the trash out before Mr. Shinra gets here. He's been asking for Scarlet again."

*****

_That was the last time I ever saw her._

_I came back, of course. Mother threatened to call the police, and all four of her sons had no objection to beating me up again. Finally, it was Yuffie who took pity on me and told me that Tifa was gone. The very day I walked away from that damned house, she left._

_I tried for years to find her, but it was as if she had disappeared. I went to her old hometown, but those who remembered her said that she had not been seen there in eleven years. I scoured more than half the Planet, but I couldn't find her._

"Go after your dream and never look back." _That was the last thing she said to me. For the past twenty years, I have been going after my dream. I am now a world-renowned artist. My works hang in galleries and museums and homes of the rich... I have shown the world my art._

_I tried not to look back. I truly did. I married, had two children. Marlene is an artist, like her old man; Denzel is in medical school. I am proud of both of them. My wife, Aerith, is wonderful. She is patient, kind, and supportive; a man couldn't have asked for a more perfect wife._

_But often, when I lie in bed beside her, I long to see fiery, wine-colored eyes and hair like midnight, to hear a low, smoky voice whisper brokenly of a tortured past to me..._

_Someone is knocking on the door. Aerith is in the greenhouse, tending to her flowers, and so I open the door and peer through the shadows... A slender figure stands at my doorstep, dressed simply, but elegantly, in a black dress. Her face is covered by a dark, wide-brimmed hat._

_"Cloud Strife?" A low, sweet voice asks._

_"Yes?"_

_A deep breath, and hands covered in black lace gloves fidget nervously. "I was sent here by my mother. She passed away three days ago."_

_My brows furrow in confusion. "Who are you? Who was your mother and why did she send you here?"_

_"She asked me to give you this." The young woman reaches into the dainty bag at her shoulder and pulls out a small ceramic doll with a cracked face, burnt clothes, and a missing foot. The very same doll in my sketch. That drawing now lies in my safe. No one knows of its existence except me and the woman in the picture, the owner of this doll._

_I take the doll from this stranger's hand and examine its features. The smile has still not faded, and the brown eyes still shine and sparkle even after more than thirty years. I turn to the person in front of me, and she speaks in a quiet murmur._

_"My mother also sent me here to tell you that she found her dream. Thanks to you."_

_Another deep breath, and the hat is slowly removed from her head. _

_Dark hair slides from its carefully arranged knot and tumbles down past the young woman's slender shoulders. She looks up at me, finally revealing her face. It is a face that belongs to an angel. The face of the woman who has haunted my dreams for the past twenty years._

_Yet something is different. Then I realize what it is. Her eyes are not the red-brown color I have been expecting. Instead they are a deep blue, like the color of the ocean. _

_My eyes._

_The young woman graces me with a smile. "My name is Heaven Lockhart-Strife... I'm your daughter."_

**THE END**

* * *

A/N: Just to clarify, I generally loathe Claerith, but I like putting them in my angsty CloTi fics to provide contrast and emo-ness... Also, I love Sephiroth when he's in pre-Nibelheim mode, and I really didn't want to use him as a villain here, but I couldn't think of anyone else. Sorry, Sephie, I tried. T_T

Another thing: I never finished FFVII or played Dirge of Cerberus, so forgive me if Lucrecia (or anyone else, for that matter) is OOC. I just needed someone to play her part, and she was the only one I could think of. T_T

Again, buckets and buckets of thanks to **vLuna** and **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie **for proofreading this! (Unfortunately, I couldn't find another word for 'hot')

Please tell me your thoughts. Drop a review. Some constructive criticism. Anything (Just no flames). I'd really appreciate it.

Thanks for reading this!!! See you in the next chapter!!! Hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2: Love and Hate

**In Our Own World**

**Summary:** FFVII oneshots

*****

**CHAPTER 2: LOVE AND HATE**

**Love and Hate, CloTi AU**

**Prompt: **a 'prompt/idea/thing' from **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie** (see end)

**Inspiration:** bits of stuff from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_; Neil Gaiman's _The Dream Hunters_ (illustrated by the immensely talented Yoshitaka Amano of FF fame); Kumi Koda's _I'll Be There_ video (One of my favorites! The location is truly beautiful and Kuu-chan looks so laidback); _Le Portrait de la Petit Cosette_, the anime soundtrack; and OCV's _Blood, Sweat and Tears_ (you should read it, it's a wonderful CloTi fic you can really sink your teeth into ;D)

**Genre: **Romance/Angst

**Summary:** In this place, the lines of love and hate are blurred... How then do you love when your soul is not your own?

A/N: Just when I thought I couldn't get any weirder, I come up with this. Be warned, my fried brain is on a twisted high from all of my exams, so this might be a little strange…

Oh, and just so you know, Cloud is a little OOC in this fic. The closest my Cloud would probably be to the Cloud we know is when he's trapped in Mako and/or being controlled by weird stuff...

.. =3 .. **For OCV**, who saved me from major writer's block and kicked my whiny butt back to work. Thanks, T! Hope you feel better soon!

**DISCLAIMER (for this chapter):** I so do NOT own that line near the end. Three guesses where it came from! As if I have to ask.

* * *

...

_I hate her._

_In this forsaken place, there is room for no other emotion but hate. It is all I know... But never--in all my years as a human or in the eons I have spent as a slave to the creature I am forced to call Mother--never have I felt anything like this. A pure, all-consuming hate that knows no bounds. Never have I felt anything so encompassing, so intense that it weaves itself into the very fabric of my being, twisting me, shaping me to her will._

_I hate her._

_I was an utter fool. I created my own demon, my own hell. How could I have known then that a single act, a single moment of hesitation would prove to be my undoing? Had there been some kind of warning, I would have called upon every ounce of darkness in my being and taken her soul. Then she would be nothing. She would own nothing... But no. I faltered, and that split-second of weakness cost me my freedom._

_I hate her._

_Why, you ask?... Hmm, why, indeed. Perhaps you will understand if you hear my story..._

...

...

...

...

_Book I: Of the Past..._

*****

First, you must know that my world is full of a great many evils... Twisted, horrific monsters that hide in the shadows, the dreaded nightmares of children come to life... Terrifyingly beautiful demons that are the embodiment of the human race's lust, greed and sin... Spirits and enslaved souls like me, who steal other people's souls to make more of us... And all these creatures hide just below the surface, waiting for the chance to attack that comes when humans drop their guard long enough to dream.

Mother is one such creature. Those of us whose lives she owns are forbidden to speak her name. But we all know what she is, what she does. After all, we lived through the same things that we put our captured souls through.

Once, a very long time ago, I was human, just as you are. A young man with marvelous prospects and untapped potential struck down with illness too early in his life. I felt it was unfair that my life was ending too soon, and so when Mother came to me in my dream, I held on to the promise of longevity, of immortality. If only I had known then...

But there is no room for remorse. Mother does not allow remorse in her children. Only hate.

Time is not measured here in seconds or days or months or years, but in how many souls you capture. We do not discriminate. In this place, everything is fair ground. We take those who are healthy, secure and full of life as well as those who are miserable, desperate and dying. In our eyes, they are no different.

But _she_ was. She was different.

Even now, I do not know where the danger lay in her. Perhaps it was in her eyes, those crimson depths that held me in their grasp the moment they met mine...

Perhaps it was in her graceful body that was pure and untouched and promised pleasure and passion to whomever possessed her...

Or perhaps it was in her heart, the truly gifted heart she owned that had the immense ability to love and be loved in return...

Whatever it was, she had captured me completely. I should have sensed the threat when I entered her dream, should have felt all the love she had for the people who surrounded her even in her dreams. Surely someone as full of hate and as saturated in evil as I was would be repulsed by the love and care she bestowed upon the fortunate people she kept close? Perhaps...

But as you will soon discover, in this place, the lines of love and hate are blurred, and you cannot tell one from the other.

I was weak! An utterly foolish, ungrateful, incompetent weakling--and Mother punished me as such. For an eternity and a half that lasted for a second, I felt Mother's green flames engulf my body, their lashing tongues scorching me and whipping at my raw flesh. I screamed in pain and terror, fueling Mother's anger and pleasure.

But _she_ was alive and her soul unharmed.

I didn't know it then, but from that moment on, she owned me.

It was in my nature to hate her. A soul enslaved for too long, set free for a solitary moment... only to be enslaved again, this time by a master much stronger than before whose grasp was infinitely more resolved. I did not understand it then, and so I rebelled. I saw her as one of us, a different kind of evil, but an evil all the same and one that must be avoided at all costs.

I tried to fight against her pull, but Mother had ordered _me_ to take her soul and I had been the first to touch her dream. It was an unwritten and unspoken rule among those who wandered the dream plane that whoever first laid claim to a dream had the right to take it. Finders keepers. And not even Mother could break that rule.

And so I was sent back. Mother was too eager to have new souls brought to her. It nourished her, you see. Our greed and pride and lust and fears as humans fed Mother and sustained her. If Mother had known then that the young woman she had thought to be insignificant and worthless would deprive her of a soul and teach her that she was not as omnipotent as she thought was, Mother would not have sent me back. But Mother didn't know and I was forced to go to the young woman and face her once again.

She told me her name was Tifa Lockhart. In the waking world, she owned a bar and lived in a small house with her brother and sister. Her parents had died when she was young, but they had been taken in by a gruff but kind man. She had no husband or lover, but she had many friends... I did the best I could. I offered her the same things Mother offered me and more:

Immortality... but she had dealt often enough with death to know that it was inevitable.

Wealth... but she had long since learned that ill-gotten wealth did not last and what little money she owned was earned through hard work and perseverance.

Fame... but she had all the love she needed from her family and friends, she did not need the adoration of others.

Marvelous powers thus far unheard of... but I had not known then that she already had a different kind of power I had never heard of that would chain me to her and free me from my bondage at the same time.

I offered her all I could think of to tempt her. But it failed. All I offered, she turned down.

When I asked her what she wanted, she did not answer, simply smiled at me. A smile that was startling in its beauty, because I had long since forgotten what beautiful looked like. There were demons who roamed the dream plane who called themselves beautiful, but this was a farce, a mask to hide what they truly looked like.

This woman, Tifa, had a beauty that seemed too... _real_ to be a mask. Her lips bowed sincerely and the corners of her mouth turned cheerfully upwards and her eyes... those crimson orbs glimmered with something I couldn't put a name to.

I left her dream, shaken, frustrated and confused. How could one be so content with one's life? Temptation was something humans could not resist. Even I, as a human, had been tempted enough to believe Mother's lies, and it had led to the demise of my soul. Why was Tifa so different?

For how long I stayed entrenched in my thoughts of her, I do not know. All I remember is that my hatred for her truly strengthened at this moment. Here I was, trapped in the dream plane, enslaved by a being of pure evil, while she was... _happy._ I had been so immersed in hate for so long that I no longer remembered what 'happy' was, what it meant… but I knew it meant she was different. I hated her for having that happiness while I wallowed here in hate.

I hated it! I hated her!

But I couldn't stay away. Not for long. I fought again. I tried resist her pull, but I couldn't. I entered her dream again. And again. And again.

Tifa showed me her life: her two siblings, and how she always helped her little brother with his homework and how she tucked her little sister in every night. I watched as she pressed her lips to the child's forehead and ruffled the brown hair there. I almost laughed at how mundane it was, and to think that this might be her secret! It was impossible!

But the gentleness with which she ran her fingers through the little girl's hair and the look on her face as she watched the sleeping child --happy still, but softer somehow-- suddenly made me think of what it would be like to have those same fingers running through my own hair and those same eyes looking at me in that same way. It made me ache... It made me ache as I had never ached before.

I didn't understand it and my hatred for her deepened all the more.

She showed me her foster father. He was gruff man with a voice that was like thunder --deep and rumbling, yet loud and cracking like a gunshot. His face was dark as ash-covered rock and his build just as strong and towering, but when he looked at Tifa, his granite eyes would soften and his voice would grow lower, like the calming of a storm.

How did such an insignificant girl tame this giant of a man? For it was clear that she had managed to bewitch him. But how? I longed to understand, to be given answers so that I may be able to glimpse this woman's soul and claim it... for Mother? That might have been my intention at first, but now I wasn't sure.

That wasn't the only mystery surrounding this young woman. She spent her time with a company of friends--two girls, one who planted flowers in Tifa's backyard, and another who spoke loudly and moved from one place to another by bouncing; and two dark-haired men, one who always smiled, and another who never did.

All of those friends came to her bar and when they did, they all seemed _happy_. Even the dark-haired man who never smiled seemed content inside Tifa's bar. I nearly roared at the unfairness of it, and this frustration mingled with the aching I felt in my chest every time I entered her dream.

Hate.

I felt it when Tifa showed me her bar and how she always had a special smile for each customer that went in and out of those doors, and how they always had a smile back for her. I felt it when one of the customer --a new one, she explained--had tried to touch the curve of her body beneath the clothes she wore.

It was the first time I felt hate in her dreams for someone other than Tifa herself. It wasn't the all-consuming hate I had for her. No, it was different. No matter how much I hated Tifa, I never raised a hand to hurt her. But the man--Tifa's customer--didn't own me. I wanted to throttle him, to run him through with my sword. I wanted to go to his dream and steal his soul merely because he had touched Tifa. I probably would have if I hadn't seen her dream self react almost immediately and twist the man's wrist. The man's face contorted in pain and he left the bar nearly in tears. I smiled cruelly at his fate.

The more I saw of her life, the deeper the ache in my chest became and the more I grew to hate her. For all the reasons I gave, I hated her. It didn't make sense, but Tifa owned me. And whether she knew it or not, she tugged at my soul a little each day, easing it out of Mother's grasp so slowly and carefully that even I did not realize it.

Like a planet gravitating towards the sun, I found myself drawn to her without reason or logic. It was hopeless and impossible, but I found myself wanting to possess her as she possessed me. Everytime I saw her, I wanted... so many things.

I wanted her to look at me just as she looked at that child with that soft, happy smile on her face. I wanted her to calm the storm of hate and evil and aching that was my constant companion. I wanted to feel her lips, not pressed to my forehead but against mine, so I could taste her. I wanted to touch her graceful, elegant body as if I had the right to. I wanted to feel her under me and hear her soft voice moaning my name. I wanted it so much my entire body trembled with it everytime she was near, and I had to control myself before I reached out and started acting on these wants.

So many things I wanted. None I could have.

…

…

…

…

_Book II: Of Love and Hate…_

*****

She was dreaming again tonight and I approached her dream cautiously. Those who protect dreams had been alerted by my presence and they had sent a Guardian.

Tifa's dream was now being guarded by a dark-haired man. He was tall and he had the build of a warrior. There are very few warriors in the dream plane. Of all of Mother's enslaved souls, only a select handful had the capacity to become a warrior, myself included.

But this man, the Guardian they had sent to protect Tifa's dream, was without a doubt eons older than I and infinitely more skilled. The Guardian had a sword strapped to his back, much like mine only the blade of his was simpler. He stood guard outside the dream, far enough that Tifa couldn't feel him, but close enough to defend her.

It did not stop me. Nothing would have stopped me at this point. Not even one of the Guardians. The hate was too intense. I had to see her again. I had to find something, _anything_, in her dreams that would somehow loosen the grip she had on me.

I stepped forward with my sword drawn and almost immediately, the Guardian's blade was cutting across mine. The dark-haired man pressed forward. He was strong and his bulk was considerably larger than mine, but I gritted my teeth and threw all of my weight back at him.

The Guardian did not move. He was just as intent on protecting Tifa's dream as I was on entering it. For a moment, our swords stayed locked together, each trying to get under the other's guard.

"So you are the enslaved soul who has been trying to enter this woman's dream," the Guardian gave me a cold, hard smile. "Tell me, what interest does a creature from the abode of nightmares have in a dreamer like her?"

I didn't answer. The grating slide of metal on metal was harsh on my ears, but I held my ground.

"Let me guess, _Mother_ sent you." The Guardian growled the name, his dark eyes cold and full of anger. Anger, not hate. This man was not immersed in hate as I was, but it seemed as if he had once been. "You poor souls do her bidding still? You--"

I cut across him. "Mother did not send me."

For a moment, the Guardian looked surprised. He stared at me intently. "You came here for yourself?"

"I came for her."

The Guardian pulled back and so did I. "Why?"

I said nothing. How could I explain that Mother was no longer the master of my soul, but this woman whose dream he was now protecting? Even to me, it sounded impossible. I moved backward, trying to assess the situation as calmly as possible.

Tifa's dream shimmered just out of reach. Though the Guardian's stance had shifted at my words, he was still standing in front of it, his large form silhouetted by the light from the luminous surface. He was still trying to protect her from me and from any other creature who walked the dream plane. But even with his mind on both me and any other potential attacker, I knew he would not be distracted.

I was beginning to get a suspicion on who this particular Guardian was, but I had to test my theory first.

I lunged forward, my sword slicing a path through the air. With an easy, almost effortless move, he blocked my sword and lunged at me with an attack of his own. Our swords clashed again, and I swung my blade at the Guardian, this time with a different move in mind.

Each warrior has an attack that is uniquely his own, and though my soul is enslaved by Mother, I am permitted to use this attack against Guardians. Using my attack, the strongest I had, would prompt the Guardian to use his.

I lifted my sword above my head and swung it easily, smiling as I heard the flames crackling to life at the edges of the blade. Once the whole blade was engulfed by the licking flames, I brought it to my side and wrapped both hands around the hilt. My eyes widened when I saw my fire.

It was blue.

That was surprising, to say the least. In the eons I had spent wandering the abode of nightmares, the fire from my attack had always been green. The same color as Mother's fire, because my soul was hers. But now it was blue.

Before I could fully comprehend what had caused this change, the Guardian had already moved backwards to avoid my blade. As he did, a single, white wing erupted to life on his back. My eyes narrowed as I looked at the bright, arching shape stretching across Tifa's dream, shielding it from me. My suspicions had been proven correct.

Angeal. One of the three greatest Guardians in the dream plane.

He and his fellow Guardians, Sephiroth and Genesis, were the best among those who protect dreams. They were said to have been warrior souls enslaved by Mother, but somehow, they managed to free themselves from Mother's grasp. Since then, they had walked the dream plane, protecting dreams from the creatures they themselves had once been.

I should have known. I had already discovered that Tifa was different from the other dreamers, though I still did not know why. But since she was so unusual, it would only make sense that those who protect dreams would want her guarded by one of the best Guardians in existence.

I gripped the hilt of my burning blade tightly. Not even a Guardian like Angeal could stop me from entering Tifa's dream. I moved forward, prepared to strike.

But Angeal made no move to hinder me. Instead, his dark eyes were focused on the blue flames engulfing my blade. He stared at them for a moment, then at me. Finally, after a long pause, he stood back, allowing me complete access to Tifa's dream.

I was so surprised that I faltered for a minute before looking back at Angeal, silently asking why. He had a smile on his face, a sad but genuine smile.

"I was once an enslaved soul like you. So were my brothers," Angeal lowered his blade and his lone wing folded around his large frame. Almost absent-mindedly, he ran his hands through the white feathers. "Our wings used to be black, but now they are white. A testament to our freedom from Mother's grasp. It was only good fortune that saved me and my brothers, and we became Guardians because of it… But you, you have been saved by something else. It is up to you to discover what it is."

Angeal moved away from Tifa's dream. "Go. I can see that am no longer needed here."

Still surprised and half-wondering if he was trying to trick me, I touched the luminous surface of Tifa's dream. Immediately, Angeal and the rest of the dream plane faded and I found myself surrounded by a brilliant light.

The light nearly blinded me and I raised the arm still carrying my sword to block it out. "Tifa?"

A small, muffled laugh trilled behind me and I turned, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light. My other senses recovered more quickly. I could smell the alluring scent that often clung to Tifa's skin, even in her dreams, and I registered that a slightly salty smell mixed with it. My feet were bare and I could feel something grainy between my toes. The stunning brightness of the white began to fade and I looked around and saw that I was at a beach.

The sun was shining brightly, its light bouncing off the surface of the clear waters. The sand beneath my feet was warm and golden. A gentle breeze ruffled my hair and dark clothes, which I realized, were somewhat out of place. I lowered my sword, feeling a little wary of my surroundings.

Shaking my head slightly, I tried to adjust myself. The light seemed to be much brighter, especially after the darkness of the dream plane. I felt a tentative hand touch mine lightly and Tifa's face filled my vision.

"Hi," she murmured in her soft voice. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

She had been waiting for me? I couldn't fathom why. The rich red of her eyes was intoxicating, pulling me in, and her smile was the same soft, happy smile I saw her give her little sister. Only now, it was directed at me. I managed to shake my head curtly. "I... got held up."

By her Guardian, but I wasn't about to tell her that. I still didn't trust her. It wasn't in my nature to trust anyone, especially not someone who had me so securely within her grasp. I had already made the mistake of trusting Mother once, and look what it had done to my soul. I wasn't about to trust this woman, no matter how much she may invade my every thought.

Tifa nodded, accepting my explanation without a word. Her hand around mine tightened a bit and she gave a small tug. "Come on."

She moved away and I finally saw what she had been wearing. My mouth dropped open and I couldn't stop the choked sound that forced its way from my throat. She turned to me with a worried expression. "What is it?"

"What--" I cleared my throat. "What are you wearing?"

It was a ridiculous question. I could see what she was wearing. It was just... unexpected.

She was wearing a dress of a pale blue color and it looked... _pleasing_ against pale skin that now had a light caramel tint to it. But that wasn't the worst of it. The dress was long, reaching down to the backs of her knees, but the material it was made of was so thin and flimsy, I could see through it to the clothes--if they could be called that--she wore underneath. There was only a top that did little to conceal the fullness of her breasts, and a small piece of cloth that was tied at her hips, emphasizing the gently rounded curves. The two scanty pieces of clothing left her stomach and legs nearly bare with only the thin blue fabric of her dress in the way, concealing yet revealing at the same time.

As I stared at her, I felt blood surge to my lower extremities and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to distract myself from my body's reactions. The fierce want I felt every time I was in her presence was turning into a burning need that flashed through my veins like wildfire. I had to control myself or I might do something stupid. I had already done the foolish and entered her dream the first time. I could not allow her grip on me to strengthen anymore than it already was.

But whatever I tried to tell myself, no matter how much the voice of reason in my head screamed against it, I found myself looking at the long, lithe lines of her body. Tifa followed my gaze and a blush crept into her cheeks, coloring them with a light dusting of pink.

"Oh, this... We took the kids to Costa del Sol yesterday. Aerith and Yuffie bought it for me as a joke, I think, but I didn't have anything else to wear, so I wore it anyway. Besides, this has nothing on what Yuffie wore. Barret was running after her the entire time we were there trying to get her to wear a towel."

"I see."

Truth be told, I didn't really see. Oh, I understood that she had worn this earlier and that her subconscious had projected it into her dream and that was why I was seeing it on her now, but... Had she really worn this in the waking world? Had their male friends been with them and had they seen her?

It filled me with the same hate I had felt for the customer who had touched her at the bar in that one dream. Had anyone tried to touch her while she was wearing this? Had she prevented them from doing so just as she had done to the man at the bar, or had she let them? Surely she hadn't. Not Tifa.

Then an insane thought crept into my mind... Would she let _me _touch her?

Of course not. Why would she? I was nothing but a creature of darkness, an intruder in her dreams.

Tifa bit her lip and turned away, her cheeks still stained with pink. She tugged on my hand again and I felt the skin there tingle. Mutely, I followed her to a spot on the sand where she had laid out a blanket. It was quite close to the water, but the waves didn't reach it.

She sat down and pulled me after her until we were both sitting on the blanket. Her legs were crossed and stretched out before her and her eyes were closed as she soaked up the warmth of the sun. It was getting quite warm so I took off my shoulder guard, sleeve and duster and sat beside her awkwardly, trying not to look at the long line of pale skin beside me.

"You know, you've been coming to my dreams for some time now," she remarked. I froze for a moment, sure she was going to tell me to stop coming to her dreams. "...but you still haven't told me your name."

At her words, I felt myself relax slightly. "I told you, my name is Strife."

Tifa shook her head. "You told me that was the name they gave you in the dream plane. I want to know your real name."

Her mouth was set in a stubborn line and I knew she wasn't going to let it go. She gave my knee a light nudge with hers and even through the fabric of my clothes, I could feel the warmth of her skin. "Come on. Out with it. It can't be that bad."

She looked at me with wide, pleading crimson eyes. She could certainly be very persuasive when she wanted to be. I sighed and gave in, hating myself for being so weak.

"Cloud."

Tifa smiled, pleased at having gotten her way. "Cloud, huh?... Cloud..." She tried my name out, as though trying to get used to it. The single word sounded... pleasant coming from her. "I like it. It suits you, kind of... I like it much better than Strife."

I grunted and said nothing. Neither name had really appealed much to me... So why did both sound so much better coming from her?

"And that was the name you had before you went to the dream plane?"

"That was the name I was born with, yes."

She was silent for moment, absorbing my words. We both looked out into the ocean, staring at the light bouncing from the waves and listening to the cry of the gulls overhead. Then she spoke, "Cloud...Tell me about the dream plane."

I stiffened. "What do you want to know?"

Tifa shrugged. "I don't know... What's it like? How did you end up there if you weren't born there? Are there others like you who go to people's dreams? Why do you do it?"

Despite her nonchalant tone, I knew she had been dying to ask this earlier, but had refrained from doing so while I examined every aspect of her life, trying to find out what was so different about her. But now I had stopped doing so, though I still had no answers. Now it was her turn to ask questions.

I could refuse to answer her questions. I could, and I should. For the first time, I felt... ashamed of what my existence had been like. If she found out about what I did and why I did it in the first place, would she be disgusted? Would she despise me? Would she banish me from her dreams? The thought made my stomach clench.

But I knew she had to be given the choice of whether to run or stay. Just as I should have been given a choice when Mother had made me the offer to join her. I had been allowed to make a decision then, but I hadn't known everything. No matter how much hate I felt for her, Tifa should know everything so she wouldn't be pulled into something she didn't understand.

She must have sensed my anxiety and laid a hand on my arm. I looked at her and she smiled, her eyes soft. "It's okay... You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

I took a deep breath. "Tifa... You have to know. I-I need you to know."

"Okay." She folded her legs under her and turned toward me. "I'm listening."

I sighed and lifted my hand to the back of my neck, ruffling my hair absently as I wondered how to start.

"You should know that dreams are manifestations of a person's subconscious mind. They're full of the thoughts and desires that don't show themselves when people are awake and conscious. They're as much a part of a person's soul as their waking self is. There are those who try to go into people's dreams and steal this part of their souls to control them.

"That was what happened to me when I was human. I was sick, it was an illness that had no cure. My life had thus far been unremarkable and I didn't want it to end yet. I didn't want to admit it, but I was afraid of dying... Well, not so much dying as dying with nothing to show for my life. I could have been a hero or a father or someone famous, but that was being taken away from me... So when one of those beings who steal souls came to me and offered me immortality, I grabbed at the chance.

"Keep in mind that I said 'steal'... She stole my soul from me even if she did give me the choice. She left out the part that my soul would belong to her and that she would fill me with hate until it was the only thing I knew. For a long time, so long that I cannot even count it in years, I have served her. I stole souls for her just as she did to me. It made me sick every time, knowing that these people were going to suffer the same fate I did. But I had no choice, she owned my soul."

I stopped and turned to look at Tifa. She was very quiet and her face wasn't turned toward me anymore. She was looking out at the ocean, listening to my words. The water wasn't as peaceful as it had been earlier and the sun wasn't as bright. She said nothing and I had no idea what she was thinking. But I went on.

"When I came to your dream, it was with the same objective. She ordered me to steal your soul. But I... I couldn't. I don't know why, but I couldn't take your soul. She punished me and sent me back. I tried all I could to get you to join us, but you wouldn't take anything I offered. I... I hated you then because I didn't understand how you could resist the very things I had not been able to resist. That's why I came to your dreams, but I--"

Again, I stopped talking. Her face was still turned away from me, but I caught sight of something glistening on her cheek. A tear? She was crying?

A rush of unknown emotion swept through me and had me wanting to kill myself for making Tifa cry. I didn't understand it, but there had been a lot of things I didn't understand recently since I met Tifa. I reached out to wipe the tears from her face. But before my fingers could touch her cheek, she wrenched away from me violently.

"Is that why?!" Her normally sweet voice was raw with something I couldn't identify. Tears were now falling freely down her ivory cheeks and she brushed them impatiently away. "Is that why you've been coming to my dreams? So you could steal my soul? That was the only thing you wanted from me... but I thought... I thought you..."

Her breath caught and she never finished her sentence. Instead, she turned and ran away from me, toward the water. I rose from the blanket and followed her, leaving my sword behind.

"Tifa!"

She didn't answer or even turn around. Her hands pulled the blue dress that had so tormented me over her head, leaving her in nothing but those scant clothes. If it had been any other situation, I would have relished the fact that I was being allowed to view her beautiful body with little impediment, but now I just felt a desperation that made my head and heart pound. I had to go to her, to make her understand.

The sky was dark now, with almost no hint of the blinding brightness that had welcomed me. The water which had earlier been so calm and still was now churning and turbulent. The waves rose and fell in a wild, uncontrolled motion… and Tifa was heading straight toward them!

I ran faster, jerking my shirt over my head, still calling her name. Over the noise of the waves, I could hear her sobbing and the sound tore at my heart.

Her body broke the surface with almost no noise. Cursing myself, I dove in after her, my limbs moving in one sure stroke after another, letting my body propel me towards Tifa.

I could see her up ahead. She had stopped swimming and now she just floated there, weeping brokenly as the waves rose. A gigantic wave loomed over her, threatening to come crashing upon her.

"TIFA!" I swam faster, pouring every ounce of my strength into my strokes. Even my earlier fight with Angeal did not test my effort as this did. Every stroke was intended to bring me toward Tifa, but it was as if I were being pushed away with every motion. All the while, the enormous wave rose higher and higher.

When it felt as if I would never reach her, my hand brushed against skin, soft even under the rage of the waves, and it closed around Tifa's waist. Feeling my arm around her waist, she struggled and the water became even more turbulent, if that were possible.

"Tifa, stop!" But she fought harder still, her face drenched with a mixture of tears and seawater. I kept my arm around her waist and gripped her wrist with the other. She shook her head and strands of her long dark hair clung to my chest and shoulder.

"Don't touch me, Cloud!" Her voice was fierce and desperate as she fought against me. "Go back to where you came from and leave me alone!"

Her words clawed at my chest until I felt raw and open. But the pain was still easier to feel than the hate I had been drowning in for so long. The wave was now looming over both of us, blocking out the sun, the sky, everything else but the woman in my arms. I let go of her waist and wrist and moved my hands to her face, capturing it between my fingers and letting my eyes feast on her delicate features.

"Tifa, listen to me," I kept my voice low and I knew she could hear me even over the waves. Her breathing was uneven from her sobbing and when she looked at me, it was with eyes that were so full of pain and hurt that it made me want to cry too. "That was before. You have to believe me, I'm not trying to take your soul now, nor will I ever attempt to. That's not why I'm here."

"Then why?" she cried, her eyes wild with pain and anger. "Why, Cloud? Why are you here?"

I didn't know what answer would mollify her or calm her down. I didn't know what answer would appease her anger. All I knew was the truth, so I bent down, placing my lips near her ear, and whispered the words I had not allowed myself to even think in all the time I had known her.

My answer stopped her and the anger fled from her eyes... And everything stopped. The wave receded as quickly as it had built, rocking us both as the sea slowly levelled. Above us, the dismal grey of the sky slowly lightened to its former blue. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds as though checking if all was clear before warming us both.

The pain had disappeared from Tifa's eyes to be replaced by something I couldn't identify. Slowly, I smoothed my thumb across her damp cheek, relishing the feel of her smooth skin beneath the pad of my finger. Without a word, I covered her lips with mine.

It was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert, like being in the eye of a storm. Everything slowed to a standstill; her dream, the world, perhaps even time itself. All I knew was that Tifa tasted of all the things I had never known before. And when her lips parted beneath mine, I pressed deeper, determined to explore everything about this woman who now owned me.

And suddenly, everything in the world was right. It didn't make sense, but everything felt... right. Nothing existed outside of Tifa's dream and there was nothing wrong in the world. Nothing at all.

...

_Now do you understand why I hate her? No?_

_Well then, let me enlighten you. I hate her, that strange, frustrating, inexplicably complex yet amazingly simple soul known as Tifa Lockhart... I hate her because she owns me. I hate her because she has somehow managed to filter through every thought I have had since I met her. I hate her because she deprived me of my freedom._

_I hate her because I love her._

_Does that make sense to you? No, it doesn't make sense to me, either. All I know is that somehow, somewhere along the way, she managed to widen my world a little, allowing me to step out of the nightmares and see the good dreams... and in doing so, she made room for more than hate. _

_It was as if she had pushed the hate away and filled the crevice it had left behind with the love and acceptance she gave unconditionally. The love I never even knew was there until it had filled me up, and by that time, it was just as strong as the hate, strong enough to overpower it. The emotion was so foreign to me after existing for so long without it that I did not know it for what it was and because of my ignorance, I took it for hate._

_The fact of the matter is, I love Tifa Lockhart. Everything else be damned._

...

...

...

...

_Book I__I__I: Of the Present..._

*****

She is sleeping again, in that phase of sleep where the dream has not yet solidified and the dreamer is caught somewhere between the waking world and the dream plane. This phase is the most dangerous, for it is at this time that the creatures of the nightmares make their move, each trying to lay claim to the dream.

I wait patiently. No demon or monster or fellow enslaved soul will touch her dream on my watch. Those who protect dreams have long since been used to my presence and Angeal no longer feels the need to guard Tifa as he did that one time we met. He and his brothers know that I come from the abode of nightmares... but they also know that though I am an enslaved soul, I have a different master now.

Her dream finally becomes clearer and I reach out. The moment I touch its irridescent surface, the dream plane fades, and I find myself standing in a room.

Tifa's room.

This room has borne witness to soft whispers and heated touches and smooth skin in the moonlight. This room is the only safe haven I know. The only reprieve from the evil and the hate. It is here that I possess her just as much as she possesses me.

Tifa is waiting for me on the bed, her body outlined in the soft silver-blue light filtering through the window. Her crimson eyes are wide and glassy in the moonlight. She is wearing nothing and that is how it should be, for she has always been like this. Tifa holds none of the fancy trappings or pretentious airs that most humans like to adorn themselves with.

This is how she comes to me; as herself, nothing more and nothing less. And there is nothing I can do but reciprocate. I approach her on the bed wearing nothing and feeling, for the first time in my life, free from any bondage. She smiles her welcome and waits, demanding nothing. She knows that I need this momentary freedom from enslavement as much as I need her.

Her house is quiet and there is no pitter-patter of children's feet --though I confess I have come to enjoy hearing it as much as I enjoy seeing her smile at the sound. We are alone in this dream and I revel in the fact that at this moment, she belongs to me.

My fingers slide through dark tresses, cupping around the curve of her head, bringing her lips to mine. She tastes of sweet wine and life and love and heaven and liquid heat. I press deeper, tasting more of her. And she gives, as only my Tifa can give.

"Cloud..."

My name is a breathless whisper against my cheek, and the sound is pure music to my ears. It has been so long since someone has spoken the name I was born with, let alone whispered it in a voice so full of emotion, but Tifa enjoys saying it. Because it is mine.

Her head falls back into the pillows, allowing me access to pulse at her throat. I lay my lips against the gentle throbbing there and my tongue lashes out to taste the sweet smoothness of her skin. She gasps, a sound of pure delight breathed into the air above her, and the throbbing beneath my tongue escalates. She makes a whimper, asking for more, but I take my time. She is far too beautiful, far too precious to be rushed.

I lay my hand across her skin, dipping a finger into the hollow at her throat, and watch as her breathing becomes unsteady. Slowly, I trace an invisible path from the base of her neck down to the cleft between her breasts, mesmerized at the way her body arches and curves, following the glide of my hand. Her chest rises and for a moment, she stops breathing as my hand strays lower, one finger trailing down the valley of her stomach.

She shudders beneath my hand and I marvel at the way her long lashes flutter across her cheek. Her hand wraps around mine and she brings it to her breasts. The dusky peaks are tight from arousal and I brush my thumb lightly across it, making her whimper again, this time, in frustration. She gives me a small, half-hearted glare but it is softened by the wry smile on her lips. With a light laugh, I give her what she wants.

Her skin is like silk beneath my tongue and she tastes heavenly. Slowly and with infinite patience, I swirl my tongue around her breast, from its graceful slope to its generous swell. I feel her ragged breathing, the way her chest rises and falls in time to the stroking of my tongue. She gasps my name over and over as she twines her hands in my hair, pulling lightly. I respond to her urgency by pressing my tongue against one rosy peak as my hand caresses the other.

"Cloud! Please..."

Her voice is nearly desperate, begging, and I feel her body's welcome against my thigh. I am enslaved by this woman, and when she asks, I have no choice but to give. Her grip on me, both physically and emotionally, is tight and will not yield. I cannot break free of it, nor do I want to.

I bend down and my tongue retraces the path my fingers started and she makes a sound that is both a moan and a sigh as I lower my head over the mound between her thighs. I mimic the sound against her heated skin and my breath glides over her, both cooling and inflaming. Beneath me, she writhes and her hands twist through the blankets, clenching and unclenching in an erratic pace, while her hips arch against me.

Relishing her reponse, I lower my head and allow myself to taste her essence. She tastes of innocent vulnerability and resilient strength, of warmth and light and everything that opposes the evil and hate of the world I have belonged to for so long before she came and helped me escape. I cannot get enough of her taste. I cannot get enough of her. Each time I take a taste, I want more.

"Cloud!"

I feel her legs tighten around me and the soles of her feet glide restlessly at my back. She is almost there, reaching for her release. She keens in desire and anticipation, and finally, I feel her clench and hear her breathless cry echoing through the room. I watch as her lips part on unsteady breaths and her eyes fly open to catch my gaze as she slowly recovers.

I return her wide-eyed gaze and smile. Shifting positions, I loom above her and capture her lips in a searing kiss. But my Tifa is a fighter, and she gives as good as she gets. I know that by now.

With a move that is firm and strong yet delicate and sensual at the same time, she lays a hand on my shoulder and pushes me down onto the bed. Our bodies shift and she is lying across me, breasts pressed against my chest, thighs spread over my lower abdomen, and mouth pressed firmly against mine.

When the need for breath forces us apart, I see that her crimson eyes are glowing and she holds my gaze steadily. I place my hands over her hips and she glides down, easing my length into her warm sheath. The sensation has us both gasping and, for a second, neither of us moves.

I take in everything about her; her glorious body silhouetted in the moonlight, the soft smile on her face, the undisguised hunger in her eyes. She does the same and as if on some silent cue, we both begin to move. Her hips roll gracefully above mine, taking in more and more of me. I press her down closer to me and surge deeper. Her long, dark hair cascades over us like a downpour of silk rain, moving fluidly at our every motion.

"Tifa..." Her name tastes good on my lips and I find myself repeating it over and over again. She raises unbearably soft eyes to my face and even through the need and the want, I can see the tenderness and love in them. "Tifa..."

She leans down and brushes her lips softly against mine. The slight barely-there sensation is enough to make me want more and I take her full lower lip between my teeth, loving its taste. Tifa moans in response and the sound is heat and desire brought to life as our bodies move together in a ceaseless, almost desperate rhythm.

When she finds her release, it is sudden and wrenches a startled, breathless cry from her. The intense and impassioned sound coming from her drags me, groaning and helpless, over the edge as well and I clutch her tightly to me, determined never to let go.

After several long moments that could have lasted for hours, her body is still draped over me, shaking and trembling, just as helpless as I am. I smile a little and we both wait for the tremors to fade. I shift until we are both lying on our sides. Tifa makes a soft sound and turns her face to my throat. I stroke her hair and allow the waves of contentment to wash over us both and lull us into peaceful silence.

"Cloud? Will you come to my dream again?"

Her voice is soft and gentle, pleading... For some reason I cannot begin to fathom, she needs me. As much as I need her. And though I do not fully understand why she does, I will come to her for as long as needs me to. She has no need to ask. I cannot stay away from her dreams. My soul depends on the freedom and love she offers so willingly. I cannot exist without it, without her. And so I nod and she smiles into my skin.

I don't know how long we stayed there, entwined in each other's arms, merely content with the feel of each other. But too soon --far too soon-- her dream begins to blur. She is waking. At first, Tifa clings to me, unwilling to leave, but after a while, the pull of the waking world becomes too much for her to resist. It is where she belongs, after all... and no matter how hard we try to keep the morning away, it will come.

But she will dream again. And I will come to her as long as I am able. For how long this little world we have created for ourselves will last, I do not know. But I do know that I will hold on to it for as long as I can.

I step out of her dream, holding her smile and the feel of her in my memory.

But I have already stepped out of my safe haven. I am no longer in the protection of Tifa's dreams. And outside of our little world, there are dangers that wish to harm.

The force of the blow nearly knocks me off balance. But eons of training and practice have worked well for me and I regain my footing almost automatically. Before my mind has even caught up with my body, sheer reflex has me swinging my fist at my attacker and I smile in satisfaction when I feel it connect with flesh and bone.

I cannot pretend that I have not expected this. In the abode of nightmares, Mother is a force to be reckoned with.

I straighten up and cast a disdainful glance at the army of enslaved souls that Mother has assembled before me. Mother herself stands behind them, towering over them all; a being that cannot be described as beast or human, merely evil.

My vision fills with sickening green as I look upon her form. She moves her bulk toward me and I can feel her cruel smile light upon me.

_"And what is this?"_ her oily voice slides through my being, causing the hairs on my skin to prickle in disgust. _"One of my children, my souls, has broken the stronghold? How it breaks my heart. One of my own has betrayed me -- dear children, do we allow Strife to live after this?"_

Mother's army of slaves shake their heads and respond "NO!" in a bland monotone. I pity these creatures, these souls enslaved by their own weakness or by the weakness of those who had taken them. They are immersed in hate, just as I used to be.

_"I own your soul, Strife," _Mother declares triumphantly. _"How worthy you once were of the name I gave you... I took you from your deathbed and gave you what you wanted: immortality! And how do you repay me? You disobey my commands and take the dreams of an insignificant girl for your own. You have mocked me, Strife, and for this... you will die!"_

The army of souls ripples in agreement and they take a menacing step forward.

Unshaken, I stand my ground. I am unarmed and vulnerable, but I stand my ground.

Mother's smile is mocking and cruel as her army slowly advances on me. But before they get the chance to do anything, the sound of beating wings fills the air. Every single head turns upward and I see the outline of three beings, all with lone wings stretched out on their backs, descending from the skies of the dream plane.

As their forms grow nearer, I see Angeal, his sword in one hand and mine in the other. On either side of him are the two other Guardians. One has flowing silver hair, catlike green eyes, and a sword so long the glide of its metal seems endless. This is, without a doubt, Sephiroth. On Angeal's other side is a Guardian with short red hair and a red cloak. His sword is made of a strange scarlet metal that glows menacingly in the darkness. This is Genesis, then.

Angeal smiles and tosses my sword in my direction. The blade whistles through the air and I wrap my hand around the hilt, nodding my thanks to Angeal. He takes his place beside me and his brothers follow wordlessly, silent warriors who have fought this battle before and now stand with me as I face the same fight.

_"You cannot face me alone, Strife? You need Guardians with you?" _Their appearance has shaken and enraged Mother, for now the four souls who have managed to escape her clutches all stand before her. But she does not show it, instead the green fire of her rage intensifies and so does her thirst to destroy. _"Foolish, ungrateful souls! I gave you all what you wanted but you were too weak to take it! You will ALL die!"_

"What you have said is true," I smile coldly at her. The smile unnerves her further, for she is not used to being challenged or mocked. "I traded my soul for immortality, and if I had known then that this would be my fate, I would have taken death gladly. I have disobeyed your commands and I have taken the dreams of a woman who is infinitely stronger than you are... _Jenova_."

She recoils in horror and her hulking mass quivers in silent indignation. _"You dare --"_

I laugh. "Yes, I do. Jenova... I know what you are. The embodiment of human evils, of the lust and greed and hate of the sinful who dream. I was one of them, and I am ashamed of it, of being weak enough to join you and take others with me. But no longer... You no longer own my soul."

_"What madness is this?!"_ Jenova screams, her voice filled with the hatred and the evil I have known for so long; but this time, there is a difference. This time, there is fear._ "Your soul belongs to me as compensation for the immortality I gave you! You WILL serve me as payment for what I did!"_

Beside me, the three Guardians are silent, but I feel the waves of anger emanating from their still forms. My own anger intensifies at Jenova's words.

"'What you did'?" I shake my head. "What you did was to take advantage of my weakness as a human... but I do not expect anything else from something like you. You steal souls, you take lives and fill us all with hate... but my soul is my own again. It is no longer yours, because you did not foresee the threat that 'insignificant girl' posed. She took my soul from you and freed me while doing so."

_"Lies! All lies!"_

Jenova lunges forward then, her entire form blazing with her fire. The army she has assembled tries to flee, but they burn with her. I can hear the inhuman screams of these souls as Jenova's fire licks at their bodies. But she does not heed them. Instead, her focus is on me and the three Guardians. She plunges through the dream plane, burning everything in her wake to get to us.

If I had been a weaker soul, if I did not own my own life now, I probably would have quailed as I watched Jenova's fiery onslaught. But Tifa had taught me many things and she had saved me. She owned me now. I belonged to her and not to this creature.

As if on some invisible cue, Angeal, Sephiroth, Genesis, and I raise our swords, four motions so fluid they seemed one. As Jenova approaches, we all move in, the wings unfurling from the three Guardians' backs and the blade of my sword bursting into blue flames. As one, we slash and attack the creature that once owned us all.

Jenova screams her hate and rage and it is a terrible sound that seems to chase away all the good things in the world. But I hold on to the image of Tifa in my mind as I attack again and again. Beside me, the three Guardians attack as well with precision and steadfast determination.

My limbs hurt with the effort but my mind is exhilaratingly clear. What is left of Jenova's army attempts to attack us but we focus on her alone, for she is at the root of all this. Again and again we attack until my body feels as if it is about to collapse from the sheer effort it takes to stand. Time itself seems to move in a sluggish pace as we all move forward each time she shows signs of weakness.

Finally, it is almost over. Jenova's hulking mass lurches and falls, but not before sending out its last attempt to destroy us. Her accursed fire blazes as tall as the sky, as unstoppable as water and as unmoving as the earth.

Instinctively, I know that this is the last of it. We can make no move to defend ourselves from this fire for our bodies are spent. Even the greatest of warriors fall. Even the greatest of Guardians have weaknesses. Even the greatest of heroes must die.

I turn to Angeal and his brothers. "This is mine to finish."

They nod, understanding, and step backward. They have already suffered through this. It is no longer their battle to fight, but mine. Wings beat once again as the three Guardians take flight, leaving only softly floating white feathers in their wake.

Now the only thing left is me and the last of the creature that once enslaved me. I stand my ground as I feel Jenova's fire once again consuming my body.

This time, for good.

My last thought is of Tifa, and how much I mourned having so little time with her, and how she would wait for me in her dream tonight, but I would not be able to come.

_I'm sorry, Tifa. I failed you..._

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_Book I__V__: Of the Future..._

*****

Tifa Lockhart lay in her bed, thinking.

Her sheets were tangled around her limbs and the clock beside her bed ticked in an even, regular cadence. From outside her room, she could hear her siblings' feet scurrying lightly across the wooden floor as they headed down to the kitchen to get breakfast. She knew she should go downstairs and make Denzel and Marlene something to eat, but something kept her glued to the bed. Her red-brown eyes stared at the ceiling, unseeing.

Cloud didn't come.

He had promised he would. Not in so many words, but he had promised. And she had waited for him, but he didn't come.

Why?

She knew Cloud wouldn't abandon her like that on purpose. Not after what he had told her when they were in the water during that dream. The dream that had changed everything when he had admitted that he loved her.

Every time they met in her dreams, he never seemed to want to let go of her, just as much as she didn't want to let go of him. He needed her. She didn't really understand why, but he did. His actions said as much. So why would he suddenly stop coming to see her? It didn't make sense.

The only reason he would stop coming to her dreams was if something had happened to him.

The thought made her hands fist on the sheets. What if something _had_ happened to Cloud? She remembered what he had told her about the dream plane, about the creatures that stole people's souls to control them. One of those beings had done it before to Cloud... What if that being tried to hurt him?

She couldn't understand why someone would want to hurt Cloud. True, he had frightened her a little at first with what he had told her about stealing souls and how that had been his objective in her dreams at first. But not anymore. Not since he had told her he loved her. And now that she knew what he was really like, she just couldn't imagine why anyone would want to hurt him.

The doorbell rang and Tifa could hear multiple voices coming from outside. Barret's growling yell was loudest, Yuffie's high, piping chatter was second, followed by Zack's cheery laugh, while Aerith's soft murmur was barely audible over the others, and though she couldn't hear him, Tifa was pretty sure Vincent was with them too. Boots skipping on wooden floors told her that Marlene was getting the door.

Sighing, Tifa forced herself out of bed. Maybe she was worrying for nothing. That was always her way with the people she loved. And she loved Cloud.

When he had told her that his first purpose in coming to her dreams was to steal her soul, she had reacted not only to the things he had told her, but also to the thought that perhaps he didn't feel the things she felt when he came to her dreams. And so she ran away, hurt and confused by the foreign emotions that were rushing through her. She had run until he whispered those words that still made her heart pound and her insides dance happily.

_"I love you..."_

Even now, Tifa had to bite her lip to keep from grinning ear to ear like some lovesick fool. She laughed inwardly at her schoolgirl-ish reactions.

Vaguely, she wondered how long their situation could last. Much as she loved having him to herself, there was a part of her that wanted to share him with everyone else. To see what Barret and Denzel and Marlene and everyone else would think of him. She was pretty sure they'd accept him. No matter how much he might say that he was full of hate and evil, she knew he had a good soul. Why else would he care so much for her?

Tifa had always belonged to a family. Cloud didn't, and she wanted to share her family with him.

She just wished she really was worrying for nothing, because she didn't know what she'd do if something bad had happened to Cloud.

Tifa pulled on her usual leather vest, apron and shorts and went down the stairs, yawning into her hand. The others were still talking. Marlene was telling Barret about what had happened to her at school lately. Denzel was showing Zack the model airplane he had put together yesterday. Yuffie was probably rummaging through the kitchen drawers, looking for something she could steal. Aerith was in the garden, probably checking on the flowers and--

"TIFAAAAA!!!"

The flower girl's high-pitched scream rent the morning air and brought everyone crashing into the backyard. Tifa, immediately on alert, ran down the stairs, two steps at a time, already prepping herself for a fight.

"Tifa! Tifa! Come quick!" Marlene's alarmed voice called through the back door.

"What the hell, Teef?"

"Tifa, what's going on?"

"TIII-FAA! What's a naked man doing in yo' backyard, girl?!"

Barret's words in his Papa-voice--as Marlene liked to call it--stopped Tifa in her tracks. "What?"

She skidded downstairs to find all of them crowded on her back door. Barret's gun-arm was pointed at something she couldn't see. Vincent's Cerberus was also aimed at the same target. Zack was clutching his enormous Buster Sword with both hands. How he had even managed to draw it, she had no idea. It was half as wide as the doorway and nearly touched the ceiling when he held it up. Yuffie had her Conformer drawn as well, but she couldn't see past the men who were all taller than her and she had to jump up and down to see over their shoulders.

"Hey, outta the way, big lug! I can't see!"

"Be quiet, ninja brat! And stay back there, you don't know who that is!"

"Who what is?" Tifa stood behind them with her hands on her hips. They all turned toward her, a risky move, but when she talked in her best ass-kicking-bartender voice, everyone listened. Yuffie took advantage of Barret's distraction and took a peek into the backyard.

"Whoa, Teef! You've been hiding things from us, huh?!" Yuffie giggled. "And he's uber-hot! Congratulations!"

"Yuffie, what on earth are you talking about?" Tifa pushed her way through the men, giving them each a stern glare when they tried to block her way. Aerith was gaping soundlessly at something. Denzel and Marlene were peeking behind Barret's legs and she gave them a gentle push backwards to keep them out of the way just in case there was any danger. Behind her, she could feel Barret, Zack and Vincent tensing themselves, ready to attack if there was a need.

A naked man? In her backyard? One of the regulars who had drunk too much? No, of course not. Her regulars knew better than to break into her house, much less do so without a stitch on... Who, then?

She stepped out into the backyard and took a cautious look. Sprawled on the grass of Aerith's mini-garden was a man. A very familiar man. She knew every inch of him, even though she had never seen him before. Not in this world anyway. But the hint of sunshine gold was enough to tell her who he was.

"Cloud!"

He was here! He came! Cloud came! Tifa's heart slammed in her ribs in a mixture of relief and fear.

But something in the way he was lying on the ground made her stomach twist in fear. His body was too still, too lifeless. She rushed to his prone form and knelt beside him. "Cloud!" She pushed his golden spikes away from his face, willing him to open his eyes so she could see the blue of them once again. "Cloud, please... Please be alright..."

"Yo, Teef, you know this guy?"

"Barret! Shhh!" Aerith's voice reprimanded and she began herding the others away with a knowing smile on her face. Tifa seemed to know the man and she obviously didn't think he was a danger to the others. Besides, something in the way Tifa was looking at him reminded her of the way she looked at Zack, like a woman in love.

Vaguely, Tifa was aware of the others filing back inside the house. She didn't pay any attention to them. Instead, she took Cloud's hand and clasped it to her cheek. How many times had he touched her there, stroking her face with careful fingers as though trying to memorize her features?

He didn't react. His skin was so cold, as if there wasn't any life in him. What had happened to him? She felt tears slip down her cheeks and brushed them impatiently away.

"Cloud..." Tifa bent her head and pressed her lips to his temple, her breath ruffling his soft hair. When he still didn't respond, she let her lips roam over his face, just as she had so many times before. But this time, it felt different. More... _real_.

He had to be alive! He had to be! This was too real to be another dream and she was _not_ going to lose him now that he was here!

Softly, experimentally, she kissed his slack mouth. Just a light brushing of her lips against his. Then another. And another. Until she gave in and finally pressed her lips more firmly against his mouth, willing him to remember, willing him to respond...

For how long she knelt there beside him, her mouth pressed to his, Tifa had no idea. Her body hurt from being in this position for so long, but her heart hurt worse, like it was shattering into a million tiny pieces. She gasped against his mouth, a pained, desperate sound.

Just as she was about to pull away, she felt strong hands cup around the back of her head, the touch firm and possessive, sealing her lips to his. Tifa's eyes flew open and met the impossible blue of his.

Then, in a move just as sudden as his response, he flipped them over so that he was above her, his arms around her to cushion her. And then he was kissing her, kissing her as if his very existence depended on it, as if she were the only thing he knew in this world... and it was true.

Tifa kissed him back with all the relief and joy and love she felt for him. Her arms wound themselves around his neck and she held on to him, never wanting to let go. She knew the others were still inside, possibly seeing her in this scandalous position; on the ground with a naked man above her. But she really couldn't care less. All she knew was that Cloud was here, and he came, just as he had promised he would.

He drew back just a little and their foreheads touched. His chest was heaving, but then so was hers, and his breath was hot as he whispered in her ear, "Sorry it took me so long."

Tifa smiled and shook her head, pulling him closer. "It's alright."

His fingers stroked her face, as though trying to reassure himself that she was really real and really _there_. "Tifa... your Guardians, they helped me... and you... I thought of you and..." She watched as he struggled to put his thoughts to words. "I-- Thank you. For saving me."

She didn't understand what he meant, but she knew he needed to say it more than to have her understand why. So she nodded and smiled at him. He was still staring at her, the blue fire of his eyes mesmerizing as they gazed down at her.

"Tifa... I'm yours now, whether you want me to be or not. I can understand if you don't want me, and if that is so then I'll stay out of your way... but whatever happens, I'm yours."

He turned his head away and the blue of his gaze left hers. His head was down, as though afraid of her reaction. For a moment, she lay there under him, thinking of the right words. In the end, there was really only one thing to say.

"Cloud?"

His eyes were still downcast. "Yes?"

Tifa cupped her hand around his cheek and lifted his face so she could meet his eyes. The blue in them shifted and glimmered in the early morning sun. She smiled.

"I'm yours, too."

**THE END**

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**Prompt:** "Cloud has sold his soul for some reason and Tifa helps him get his heart back", and also "dark and broody Cloud" and "bright and perky Tifa", though I had to change 'perky' to 'happy'.

A/N: Okay, that was seriously one of the mot draining fics I have ever written. Never knew so much hate could be so exhausting... Anyway, I had so many protests about Cloud and Tifa not getting together in the last chapter that I decided to give them a happy ending here!

As usual, boundless gratitude to **vLuna **and **ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie** for proofreading! OCV gave me the prompt and vLuna gave me the suggestion to add another CloTi scene, hence the beach scene. Kudos to you guys!

Anyway, please review. Really, I value your thoughts and opinions, so please, feel free to drop a line or two telling me what you think about this little fic. And if you have any ideas on what the next chapter should be about ('cause I don't), then please, share!

Thanks for reading! Hope to see you in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3: Come Alive, Part I

**IN OUR OWN WORLD**

**Summary: **FFVII lemony drabbles

**CHAPTER 3: COME ALIVE**

**Come Alive, CloTi AU**

**Inspiration: **bits of stuff from a local soap opera about a pair of lovers separated by tragedy and reincarnated in the modern time (the hero is in the form of a statue carved out of wood); also, videos about sculpture and stone carving on YouTube; snippets from **kitsune13**'s _Stray _(definitely one of the best CloTis out there); as well as the piece _March of the Sky Signalmen _by **anndr **of deviantART (I'm not sure if my idea is congruent with the piece, but it's a gorgeous painting nonetheless); oh, and I was listening to _Insatiable _by Darren Hayes (yes, I do listen to stuff like this from time to time), _Moonflower_ by Yuki Kajiura (from the _Le Portrait de la Petite Cossette_ soundtrack),and _Aisho_ by Koda Kumi (one of my favorite songs: the music, the video, the lyrics, I love all of it!).

**Genre: **Romance/ Drama

**Summary: **She was the artist and he, the art she molded. Under her guidance, he let himself take shape and come alive.

A/N: I am unforgivable. I really am. This beloved little folder of mine has not seen an update in over a year! There really is no excuse for my crime, except for extreme writer's block. I've tried to answer different prompts, but I couldn't seem to find the creative juices to finish them (I apologize). Then _Near to You_ got started, and that sapped out all of my ideas and well... I'm uploading this fic (in two chapters) as a peace offering to you guys.

**COME ALIVE, Part I**

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At first, he was nothing.

A cold, soulless object - he felt nothing.

He had no idea how long he'd spent in that existence, how long he had lain there - a yet-to-be, instead of a being. Like a thrown ball frozen still in midair before succumbing to gravity, he was neither falling nor rising. Neither here nor there. Neither living nor completely dead. The potential was there, but he lacked the will to make himself... _live._

Until she came.

Her.

He didn't know her name, but it didn't matter. He knew her. He knew her as if she were the only creature that existed in the world - the only real thing outside of cold, unfeeling stone. And she was, for him.

He could still remember the first time he woke up to her touch.

The first time her hands - slender and softly reverent, yet firm and toughened by hard work - had touched him, it had brought him out of his apathetic slumber and dragged him, wide-eyed and gasping, to wakefulness. Suddenly, after an existence of non-existence, he had a new awareness of the world around him. Overwhelmed by the new sensations swamping him - sights and sounds and smells that made no sense to him - he had fought, resisting this new state of consciousness by clinging to his rigid, resilient form.

And then her hands were there again, soothing and calming as they roamed over his ice-cold surfaces. Like a mother reassuring her frightened child, her hands comforted even as they gently explored every corner and crevice, feeling and bringing more and more of him out into the waking world.

For the first time, he felt the cool, tingly, slightly wet brush of paint over smooth, previously untouched surfaces as her steady hands carefully drew patterns over his skin. The paint dried, sticky and a little raw, and she touched him again. This time not with her hands, but with the sharp point of a chisel, and it _hurt!_ It chipped away at his loose, rough edges, and he protested wildly against this violation -

… but her hands were infinitely gentle and focused as she followed the patterns she'd drawn, and with great patience, she eased bit by bit off of him - dislodging parts that he didn't know he didn't need - until all that was left was...

Himself, as he needed to be.

Under her careful guidance, he let himself take shape.

First, a leg, then the other. Her hands guided him where she wanted - where he needed - him to go. Muscles contracting, poised to take flight, he was on the verge of becoming a something out of the nothing that he had been. And her hands were taking him there.

Her hands were there, steady and careful, as he flexed the muscles of his torso, ready to pounce on life as it was revealed to him in small quantities. Her fingers smoothed over ridged abdomen in a reverent lover's caress and he felt her breath, warm and soft, sweep over his body to remove the dust over his stomach. If he had teeth, he would have clenched them already, and if he had eyes, he would have closed them at the way that soft puff of wind inflamed him and instilled in him the desire to come alive more quickly so that he could feel her breath on his face, against his lips...

Her hands were there, on his shoulders, to steady them both when he'd slipped in his eagerness to come alive and she'd _almost_ made a wrong cut. From then on, they'd both contained themselves, knowing how important each cut was, and how one wrong move could destroy him and, by extension, her...

Her hands were there when he tried but failed to reach out to her with his newly-born arms and touch her in return. He tensed in frustration, but then she was there, smoothing her comforting fingers over his arms, telling him without words that she knew what he had attempted to do, and she didn't mind that he hadn't succeeded. What was important was that he'd tried.

Soon... soon he would be alive enough to touch her back.

That time couldn't come soon enough for either of them.

He crammed himself with more and more snippets of the world, of life... of her. The absentminded way she would tuck her hair behind her ear while she worked. The way she hummed her pleasure whenever he was in a good enough mood to be pliant for her. The way her breasts brushed ever so lightly against his chest when she stepped closer...

For her part, she pushed herself to her limits. When he had gained enough perception to distinguish night from day, he realized that she sometimes got up in the middle of the night to work on him. He knew it was the middle of the night because he couldn't feel the light from the sun warming him and the things around him. During those late-night sessions, she delighted in showing him a new idea she'd had to make him more alive and she guided him with an almost frenzied determination that stirred his excitement up as well, until the sun returned and the two of them were tired but satisfied at the way his shoulders rolled with new movement, or the way his arms tightened with new force.

But there were times when she got frustrated with herself too, times when she tried to guide him, but she couldn't because she herself didn't seem to know where she was going. During those times, she would lay her tools down and turn away from him.

The first time she'd done that, his stone heart almost broke in half and he feared he would crumble to pieces at her feet.

But she had come back. She had come back, and the hands that touched him then were apologetic, but as loving as ever - no, even more. She came back. She always came back, because she needed this as much as he did.

He was a part of her. She had made him, poured her heart and soul into him, and he thought he might have gotten those from her too in the process.

Because... he was her.

He was her yearning, her love, her passion...

He was her frustration, her secret longing, her pleasure, her pain...

He was her dreams, her sadness, her solitude, her happiness...

He was her escape, her need, her want, her desperation, her determination...

He was her compassion, her patience, her warmth and all the things that made her who she was.

He saw it in her crimson eyes when he opened his own for the first time. And he knew then, without a doubt, that just because she was the artist and he was the art she molded, didn't mean that he didn't have a hand in shaping her as well.

* * *

...

A/N: Okay, so the original idea isn't completely mine. It's sort of from the TV soap I mentioned. When I started writing this, I'd only seen promotional for that show and I thought the heroine was the one who'd sculpted the statue, but it turns out that it was actually the heroine's rival who sculpted the hero (she copied him from the heroine's sketch; yes, it's complicated). But by then, I was already in love with the idea of Tifa "making" Cloud, so I went ahead with it... I don't actually watch the said show, 'cause I don't have time to watch TV. I thought the concept was good, but all the melodrama, and the networks' attempts to keep viewers tuned in (resulting in unnecessary plot twists; which seems to happen all the bloody time), not to mention the lack of quality acting, is just too much for me. So I took the concept, edited and trimmed, and… well, you've read the results.

I'm not really sure if I got the sculpting process right. I've never sculpted anything in my life (unless you count making a cat/rabbit/dog thing I made out of Play-doh when I was five), so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me :'( I should really, really credit the stone carving and sculpture videos I watched on YouTube. I never really gave it much thought before, but stone carving and sculpture is a very, very difficult and complicated art. So much care and attention to detail – they start out with a block of marble, and the results are astounding. So, to the sculptors and stone-cutters/carvers out there, I salute you and keep up the good work!

...

So, we're on to Part II. If you think Part I is fine the way it is and you're not interested in the smut, then you don't need to read Part II. I'll understand ^_^


	4. Chapter 4: Come Alive, Part II

[A/N: WARNING: There will be ranting here

What the hell happened to the the good old-fashioned break? Seriously, the only free week we have in one whole academic year, and I just HAD to get sick! My stomach is acting all weird and I feel like barfing all over the place. I can count the number of times I've vomited in my whole life on my hand, and now I fell all puke-y! I can't even eat anymore! Do you have any idea how weird that is - me, not eating? I don't even know what it is! It's not a virus, and I don't _..._ think it's appendicitis. It doesn't seem like gastroenteritis either, 'cause I don't have diarrhea or fever or anything like that. So what the hell IS it? And why, oh why, did I have to get it on the only free week of the year? OTL

"..."

Oh well, at least it didn't come when we had exams - then I'd be REALLY pissed!

*takes a deep breath* I'm okay now. Anyway, that's why I haven't managed to update this thing. Sorry, guys T_T]

Now, onto our feature presentation.

...

So… Part II. Part I was more of the artsy side of things, this part features a –ahem—different kind of "art". If you thought Part I was fine the way it was, and that it doesn't need any tweaking, you don't have to read this chapter. But if you're interested in the smut and you thought Part I was kinda lacking, then by all means, read on.

Hope you enjoy it!

**COME ALIVE, Part II**

* * *

...

Her hands added the final touch, and he could barely contain the rush of excitement as she finished smoothing him over with a brush of sandpaper. It was rough, but her hands were careful, and it heightened his raw emotion as he took in the fact that his entire body and his soul were, at last, complete.

With a last tender brush of her fingers on his cheek, she gave him a satisfied smile before turning to go and flicking the studio lights closed. His newly-formed ears picked up the shuffling sounds of her getting into bed. After a few moments, the sounds disappeared and he knew she was asleep.

Instinctively, he knew... It was time.

Smooth marble gave way to firm flesh and sightless eyes opened to reveal cobalt blue. He flexed his limbs and stretched, testing the dynamics of his new body. A thin shaft of moonlight shone from the window and he turned toward it.

Was it midnight already? So she'd stayed up all night again. Shaking his head, he allowed himself a small smile. He was going to have to talk to her out of that.

With steps remarkably confident for someone who hadn't even been alive a year ago, he made his way to the door, marveling at the smooth way his hand closed over the knob.

She'd made him well.

Pushing the door open, he found himself in a long hall that ended in a set of stairs. Her room was up there, he knew, just above the studio. He knew because he heard her turn and shift in her bed every night - and every night, he wished he was there to share her bed with her.

He stopped at her door, uncertain for the first time.

Would she recognize him...? Would she accept him...? What if she didn't - What if the intimate connection they'd had could only be shared while he was nothing but marble and she the artist who guided him?

From behind the door, he heard her turn in her bed, murmuring a sound so soft he wasn't sure if he'd heard it right. Softly, in her sleep, she had whispered a name - a name neither of them had spoken before, but somehow he knew as her lips formed the word in an exhale...

"Cloud..."

... he knew. It was his name.

Not only had she given him a soul and a body, she had given him a name... and she murmured it in her dreams. She dreamt of it, of _him_.

Doubts dispelled, he pushed the door open and stepped in. And there she was, lying across her bed, sheets tangled around her waist, face peaceful in her sleep.

She was beautiful.

He'd known she would be. Had seen a glimpse of it when he was still inanimate. But to see her now, with new eyes - eyes she had given him - it amazed him.

Slowly, with as much care as she had demonstrated while she was making him, he approached her. When he was near enough, he knelt down so that his face was level with the bed. Her face was turned toward him, half-veiled by the silken river of midnight black that was her hair. He couldn't see all of her, but he didn't care. He wouldn't have cared if she was physically imperfect. She had made him. For the past year, she had been his constant companion. She had guided him to life - shaping and molding with exquisite care and respect - and she was perfect to him in every way.

Her hands - those beautiful, life-giving hands - were resting on the pillow beside her head, and in her sleep, she reached out to him, fingers gently beckoning him forward. Her breath, soft and warm, ruffled her hair and touched his cheek. Her skin was pale and soft-looking, shadowed by the thick fringe of lashes that fanned over her cheek. He held his own breath and reached out with one hand to smooth her hair away from her face, letting the tips of his fingers brush the arch of her cheek.

The contact pulled the breath out of him in a heavy exhale. How soft she was... soft and smooth and undeniably alive. Shifting his hand so that his palm cupped her cheek, he marveled at the way her skin felt under him, full of wonder at the fact that now it was _him_ touching _her_.

She made a small sound, stirred from her sleep, and he smiled at the rightness of it. Now, he was the one waking _her_.

She did not wake as quickly or as completely as he had. Eyes still hidden by a snatch of pale violet skin and the curl of her lashes, she released a slow, languorous breath that rolled over him and made his entire body tighten. Her hand lifted slightly and curled minutely over his hand where it was still cupped over her cheek.

Remembering the feel of her hands smoothing over him that first time, he repeated the caress, slowly and reverently, from her cheek to her throat. She rewarded him with another soft exhale and tipped her head back, her elegant neck arching toward him.

Taking this as a sign of encouragement, he let his fingers explore the delicate curve of her shoulder down to the crook of her elbow where it was bent over her waist. Her skin prickled in response, and he rubbed his hand over it to soothe her. When she made another small sound in her sleep, he abandoned her arm in favor of her waist. The skin there was covered by smooth, silky fabric and he exhaled in frustration, deciding then and there that the clothing needed to be removed. Soon.

But first, she had to wake. To know that he was alive and that he was right here beside her, and would always be.

With infinite care and patience, he ran his hands over the cool material, feeling it heat with the warmth from her body as he traced the dip of her waist. Her exhales were more rapid now as her breathing became unsteady and her movements became less drowsy than before.

She was almost awake now.

His hand settled on her hip and he leaned closer to her until his mouth was almost at her ear. His voice was low and hoarse, but as smooth and cool as the stone he had once been made of. It came out of him with slight uncertainty, the first time it had ever been used. But there was no hesitation in the way he murmured her name.

"Tifa..."

Tifa. Yes, that was her name. He knew it with the same certainty that told him the woman sleeping in front of him was his maker. That she had been the one to guide him into the world.

It was her name on his lips that woke her.

Thick, dark lashes fluttered open and her eyes - bottomless red and warm, earthen brown - found his in the dark. They went wide and fearful, and he felt her sharp intake of breath - the way her body drew slightly away from his in surprise.

"Cloud...?"

He tensed when she moved away, his eyes clouding over. The small jerk that shifted her hip out from under his palm... it spoke more deeply to him than any verbal rejection she could ever give him. That she would shy away from his touch... it reminded him that he hadn't always been alive like this, that she had once seen him as he had been.

Cold, unfeeling stone.

He hadn't always been human. He had been an inanimate object, impersonal and dead to the world. She'd made him come alive, but... perhaps she could not see him as anything other than what he had been. Perhaps he would always be stone to her - smooth, perfect, carefully-hewn stone, but stone nonetheless. The heart that now lay beating inside his chest threatened to burst with pain, and he looked away from her shocked, crimson eyes.

"Cloud..."

The soft murmur brought his attention back to her, but his eyes still avoided hers. He heard her exhale a soft sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and her hands touched his cheek.

She must have touched him a million times already, but he never grew tired of it. He never would. Each time she touched him, he felt more alive. And now, instead of cold marble, her fingers brushed taut skin, and he felt his new nerve endings tingle, each sensation magnified a thousand fold. Her hand settled over the side of his face and coaxed him to look at her.

She was smiling, her full, rose lips curving upwards, and her crimson eyes sparkling softly as they focused on him. She was beautiful, and it stole the breath right out of him.

"Cloud…" his name on her lips was soft and reverent, flooded with love and acceptance. Both of her hands found his face and brought him closer so she could plant a light kiss at one corner of his mouth then the other. "Cloud..."

All breath left him a relieved groan.

She knew him, too.

He turned his head slightly so that her third kiss brushed against his lips and he lowered his head further so that he could take in more of her. She parted her lips and welcomed him, and all he could think was that it felt amazing to be alive. How had he existed before her? Before she came and brought him to life?

She tugged at him and he followed until he was on top of her on the bed. With a pleased sound, her hands crept upward and tangled themselves in his hair, pulling lightly at the sun-colored strands. Her back arched and he accepted her invitation, slipping a hand under her and bringing her closer until they were as close as they could get, and then he was drowning, drowning in her and he never knew drowning would be this amazing...

When his lungs finally begged for breath, he pulled away from her and he heard her whimper of protest with a small smile. His lips soothed and inflamed as soon as they touched the smooth, sweet skin of her throat. Pulse racing and body dusted with pink, she melted for him, head falling backward on the pillow to offer him more. And he took what she gave because she was everything to him, his life and his sustenance, and he would do anything for her.

There was no hesitation in either of them. There never had been. Not when they were exploring each other with curious, reverent, insatiable hands. No thought of 'too fast' or 'too slow'... only intense, heated focus and that desperate need to know each other wholly and completely.

Her hands explored him as she did that first time. Reverent, with a growing hint of urgency, her fingers trailed over the dip of his spine downward, until they clenched at the small of his back, desperate, as he continued his own explorations. And her whispered moan echoed around the room because he'd finally figured out how to undo the buttons holding her clothing together and his mouth was tasting the skin at the base of her throat, moving downwards, revealing more and more of her until she was laid completely bare to him.

There were no words. They'd never needed them anyway. Somehow, each knew what the other was thinking without uttering a single syllable.

He didn't speak, but his wonder was there when he touched her, hands following the contours of her body and marveling at her beauty. His need was there when he trailed hungry fingers over the length of her thigh and settled it over his hip. His willingness for her was there when he submitted himself to her explorations, even though they both knew that she had known and memorized every part of him even before he had taken form.

Her determination was there when her lips brushed his skin before parting to brand him as hers, even though they both knew she already had that claim. Her love was there when she brushed his golden hair tenderly away from his face as he leaned over her. Her need was there when she allowed him to pin her to the bed, his hands searching - fingers sliding over slick skin, each touch branding her as his.

Her gasps and sighs came freely now, and they set his new body on fire, sparks racing across veins that were now blue and green instead of black and grey and had heated blood flowing through them. Where before her hands had been gentle and careful to keep him from breaking, now her fingers dug into his skin in desperation as he touched her and her nails scraped against him, clenching erratically, whenever his fingers explored further, deeper, pushing her to the limits of reality.

She reached for it, for him, lips parted on a muted scream as pleasure crested and lasted for several long moments before waning slowly, still leaving her wanting more. He was ready to give it to her; he would give her anything. And when her trembling fingers reached out to him, he took them and gave each slender digit a reverent kiss before moving to cover her body with his own.

With a sigh, she opened for him, long, lithe legs wrapping around his waist and shifting languidly so that she enfolded more of him. Crimson locked with cobalt blue, and they came together, fierce and gentle, desperate and tender - longing and love finally meeting after an existence apart.

Bodies flowing together, speaking more eloquently than words, they moved as one. Forearms braced on either side of her head, he leaned over her, eyes hungry yet tender. She clung to him, body clenching and trembling, crimson eyes half-lidded and focused entirely on him. Her fingers slid up his shoulders to wrap around his neck, clinging there to anchor herself and him.

It was amazing to him that they were here - him, flesh and bone, and her, body and soul completely bare for him. Only him.

It was her. She was the one who had made him come alive.

And he loved her for it.

He whispered the words in her ear and watched as her eyes widened, red bleeding into brown. Her fingers slipped into his hair and tugged him closer so she could kiss him, her tongue tangling with his as their movements became just a little more desperate. Hips rolling. Backs arching. Rose lips parting for breath. Slick skin sliding against slick skin. Dark strands of midnight silk clinging to his sweat-soaked arms. Fingers clenching, digging into skin, tangling with hair or cotton sheets - anything they could reach - as they came apart together, bodies shuddering violently and white flashing across vision.

She clung to him while the pleasure crested and slowly ebbed. Despite the fact that his own body felt drained from the aftermath, he held her, keeping her sheltered in the shadow of his body as she lay trembling and shaking, limp but entirely sated. With a deep, contented sigh, she tugged at him again. This time, he collapsed on the bed beside her, and he gathered her close with a contented hum.

Crimson eyes already drowsy but infinitely tender, she smiled at him. Touched his face gently with her beautiful hands. And her voice was soft and sincere, laced with love and amused affection.

"I love you, too."

With one last kiss to the corner of his mouth, she ducked her head and pressed her face into his throat. Within minutes, she was asleep. He stroked her hair slowly, letting the silken strands wrap around his fingers. She made a soft sound in her sleep and he smiled.

It felt good to be alive.

**THE END**


End file.
